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THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 


GIFT  OF 

Robert  Koshland 


S  K  ^  ^ 


Children  of  the  Ghetto 


«^ 


Children   of  the  Ghetto 


A  Study  of  a  Peculiar  People 


BY 


I.    ZANGWILL 

Author  of  "The  Bachelors'  Club,"   "The   Big   Bow   Mystery, 
"  The  Old  Maids'  Club,"  "  The  King  of  Schnorrers,"  etc. 


Neb]  gorit 
MACMILLAN    AND    CO. 

AND    LONDON 
1896 

All  rights  reserved 


Copyright,  1892,  by 
THE  JEWISH  PUBLICATION   SOCIETY  OF  AMERICA. 

Copyright,  1895, 
By  MACMILLAN  AND  CO. 


Set  up  and  electrotyped    April,   1895.      Reprinted 
September,  1895  ;  January,  1896. 


t 


/ 


NorfaootJ  59reg8 

J.  S.  Cushino;  &  Co.  —  Berwick  &  Smith 
Norwood  Mass.  U.S.A. 


p  f(y^  0^ 


GIFT 


( 


hi 

Preface  to  the  Third  Edition, 

'T^HE  issue  of  a  o7te-volume  edition  gives  7ne  the  oppor- 
timity  of  thanking  the  public  and  the  critics  for  their 
kindly  reception  of  this  chart  of  a  terra  incognita,  and  of 
restoring  the  original  sub- title,  which  is  a  reply  to  sotne  criti- 
cisms upon  its  artistic  form.  The  book  is  intended  as  a 
study,  through  typical  figures,  of  a  race  ivhose  pe?'sistence  is 
the  most  7'emarkable  fact  i7i  the  history  of  the  world,  the  faith 
and  morals  of  which  it  has  so  largely  inoulded.  At  the 
request  of  numei'ous  readers  I  have  reluctantly  added  a 
glossary  of  '  Yiddish  '  words  and  phrases,  based  on  one  sup- 
plied to  the  American  edition  by  another  haiid.  I  have 
omitted  only  those  words  which  occur  but  once  afid  are  then 
explained  in  the  text ;  and  to  each  word  I  have  added  ari 
indication  of  the  language  from  which  it  was  drawft.  This 
may  please  those  who  share  Mr.  Andrew  Lang^s  and  Miss 
Rosa  Dartle's  desire  for  information.  It  will  be  seen  that 
most  of  these  despised  words  are  pure  Hebrew ;  a  language 
which  never  died  off  the  lips  of  men,  and  which  is  the  meditmi 
in  which  books  are  written  all  the  world  over  even  unto  this 

day. 

I.  Z. 

London,  March,  1893. 


M899444 


Contents, 


Book  I.     The  Children  of  the  Ghetto. 


CHAPTER 

PAGE 

Proem         ......... 

ix 

I. 

The  Bread  of  Affliction        ...... 

3 

II. 

The  Sweater 

lO 

lit 

Malka 

30 

IV. 

The  Redemption  of  the  Son  and  the  Daughter     . 

47 

V. 

The  Pauper  AUen 

64 

VI. 

"  Reb  "  Shemuel 

75 

VII. 

The  Neo-Hebrew  Poet 

84 

VIII. 

Esther  and  her  Children      ..... 

98 

IX. 

Dutch  Debby 

113 

X. 

A  Silent  Family  ....... 

121 

XL 

The  Purim  Ball 

.     127 

XII. 

.     141 

XIII. 

Sugarman's  Barmitzvah  Party       .... 

■     154 

XIV. 

The  Hope  of  the  Family 

.     165 

XV. 

The  Holy  Land  League       ..... 

178 

XVI. 

The  Courtship  of  Shosshi  Shmendrik    . 

■     193 

XVII. 

The  Hyams's  Honeymoon 

209 

XVIII. 

.    221 

XIX. 

With  the  Strikers         ...... 

•     234 

CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER 

XX.  The  Hope  Extinct 

XXI.  The  Jargon  Players 

XXII.  "  For  Auld  Lang  Syne,  My  Dear  " 

XXIII.  The  Dead  Monkey 

XXIV.  The  Shadow  of  Religion 

XXV.  Seder  Night 


Book  II.    The  Grandchildren  of  the  Ghetto 

I.  The  Christmas  Dinner  . 

II.  Raphael  Leon 

III.  "  The  Flag  of  Judah  "  . 

IV.  The  Troubles  of  an  Editor 
V.  A  Woman's  Growth 

VI.  Comedy  or  Tragedy?     . 

VII.  What  the  Years  brought 

VIII.  The  Ends  of  a  Generation 

IX.  The  "  Flag "  flutters       . 

X.  Esther  defies  the  Universe 

XL  Going  Home 

XII.  A  Sheaf  of  Sequels 

XIII.  The  Dead  Monkey  again 

XIV.  Sidney  settles  down 
XV.  From  Soul  to  Soul 

XVI.  Love's  Temptation 

XVII.  The  Prodigal  Son . 

XVIII.  Hopes  and  Dreams 


PAGE 

249 

259 
266 

275 
284 
297 


319 

358 
375 
388 

398 

422 

431 
435 
445 
457 
468 
491 

497 
505 
523 
536 
542 


PROEM. 

Not  here  in  our  London  Ghetto  the  gates  and  gaberdines  of 
the  olden  Ghetto  of  the  Eterjial  City ;  yet  no  lack  of  signs  ex- 
ternal by  whicii  one  may  k?iow  it,  and  those  who  dwell  tJierein. 
lyts  narrow  streets  have  no  specialty  of  architecture ;  its  dirt  is 
jiot  picturesque.  It  is  no  longer  the  stage  for  the  high-buskined 
tragedy  of  tfiassacre  and  martyrdom ;  ofily  for  the  obscurer, 
deeper  tragedy  that  evolves  from  the  pressure  of  its  own  inward 
forces,  and  the  long-drawn-out  tragi-comedy  of  sordid  and  shifty 
poverty.  IJVatheless,  this  London  Ghetto  of  ours  is  a  region 
where,  amid  uncleamtess  and  squalor,  the  rose  of  rojnaiice  blows 
yet  a  little  lotiger  i7i  the  raw  air  of  English  reality  ;  a  world 
which  hides  beneath  its  stony  and  iinlovely  surface  an  ijuier 
world  of  dreams,  fantastic  and  poetic  as  the  jnirage  of  the 
Orient  where  they  were  woven,  of  superstitions  grotesque  as  the 
cathedral  gargoyles  of  the  Dark  Ages  in  which  they  had  birth. 
And  over  all  lie  tenderly  some  streaks  of  celestial  light  shifting 
from  the  face  of  the  great  Lawgiveh, 

The  folk  who  compose  our  pictures  are  children  of  the  Ghetto ; 
their  faults  are  bred  of  its  hover  iiig  miasma  of  persecution,  their 
virtues  straitened  and  intensified  by  the  narrowness  of  its  hori- 
zon. And  they  who  have  won  their  way  beyond  its  boundaries 
jnust  still  play  their  parts  in  tragedies  atid  comedies  —  tragedies 
of  spiritual  struggle,  comedies  of  material  ambition  —  which 
are  the  after?nath  of  its  centuries  of  dominance,  the  sequel  of 
that  long  cruel  night  in  Jewry  which  coincides  with  the  Chris- 
tian Era.  If  they  are  not  the  Children,  they  are  at  least  the 
Grandchildren  of  the  Ghetto. 

The  particular  Ghetto  that  is  the  dark  background  upon 
which  our  pictures  will  be  cast,  is  of  voluntary  formation. 


X  PROEM. 

People  who  have  been  Hving  in  a  Ghetto  for  a  couple  of  cen- 
turies, are  not  able  to  step  outside  merely  because  the  gates  are 
thrown  down,  nor  to  efface  the  brands  on  their  souls  by  putting 
off  the  yellow  badges.  The  isolation  imposed  from  without 
will  have  come  to  seem  the  law  of  their  being.  But  a  minority 
will  pass,  by  units,  into  the  larger,  freer,  stranger  life  amid  the 
execrations  of  an  ever-dwindling  majority.  For  better  or  for 
worse,  or  for  both,  the  Ghetto  will  be  gradually  abandoned,  till 
at  last  it  becomes  only  a  swarming  place  for  the  poor  and  the 
ignorant,  huddling  together  for  social  warmth.  Such  people 
are  their  own  Ghetto  gates ;  when  they  migrate  they  carry  them 
across  the  sea  to  lands  where  they  are  not.  Into  the  heart  of 
East  London  there  poured  from  Russia,  from  Poland,  from  Ger- 
many, from  Holland,  streams  of  Jewish  exiles,  refugees,  settlers, 
few  as  well-to-do  as  the  Jew  of  the  proverb,  but  all  rich  in  their 
cheerfulness,  their  industry,  and  their  cleverness.  The  majority 
bore  with  them  nothing  but  their  phylacteries  and  praying 
shawls,  and  a  good-natured  contempt  for  Christians  and  Chris- 
tianity. For  the  Jew  has  rarely  been  embittered  by  persecution. 
He  knows  that  he  is  in  Golitth,  in  exile,  and  that  the  days  of  the 
Messiah  are  not  yet,  and  he  looks  upon  the  persecutor  merely 
as  the  stupid  instrument  of  an  all-wise  Providence.  So  that 
these  poor  Jews  were  rich  in  all  the  virtues,  devout  yet  tolerant, 
and  strong  in  their  reliance  on  Faith,  Hope,  and  more  especially 
Charity. 

In  the  early  days  of  the  nineteenth  century,  all  Israel  were 
brethren.  Even  the  pioneer  colony  of  wealthy  Sephardim  — 
descendants  of  the  Spanish  crypto-Jews  who  had  reached  Eng- 
land via  Holland  —  had  modified  its  boycott  of  the  poor  Ashke- 
nazic  immigrants,  now  they  were  become  an  overwhelming 
majority.  There  was  a  superior  stratum  of  Anglo-German  Jews 
who  had  had  time  to  get  on,  but  all  the  Ashkenazic  tribes  lived 
very  much  like  a  happy  family,  the  poor  not  stand-offish  towards 
the  rich,  but  anxious  to  afford  them  opportunities  for  well-doing. 
The  Schjiorrer  felt  no  false  shame  in  his  begging.  He  knew  it 
was  the  rich  man's  duty  to  give  him  unleavened  bread  at  Pass- 
over, and  coals  in  the  winter,  and  odd  half-crowns  at  all  seasons  ; 


PROEM.  xi 

and  he  regarded  himself  as  the  Jacob's  ladder  by  which  the  rich 
man  mounted  to  Paradise.  But,  like  all  genuine  philanthropists, 
he  did  not  look  for  gratitude.  He  felt  that  virtue  was  its  own 
reward,  especially  when  he  sat  in  Sabbath  vesture  at  the  head  of 
his  table  on  Friday  nights,  and  thanked  God  in  an  operatic  aria 
for  the  white  cotton  table-cloth  and  the  fried  sprats.  He  sought 
personal  interviews  with  the  most  majestic  magnates,  and  had 
humorous  repartees  for  their  lumbering  censure. 

As  for  the  rich,  they  gave  charity  unscrupulously  —  in  the 
same  Oriental,  unscientific,  informal  spirit  in  which  the  Dayanim, 
those  cadis  of  the  East  End,  administered  justice.  The  Takif, 
or  man  of  substance,  was  as  accustomed  to  the  palm  of  the  men- 
dicant outside  the  Great  Synagogue  as  to  the  rattling  pyx  within. 
They  lived  in  Bury  Street,  and  Prescott  Street,  and  Finsbury  — 
these  aristocrats  of  the  Ghetto  —  in  mansions  that  are  now  but 
congeries  of  "apartments.'^  Few  relations  had  they  with  Bel- 
gravia,  but  many  with  Petticoat  Lane  and  the  Great  Shool,  the 
stately  old  synagogue  which  has  always  been  illuminated  by 
candles  and  still  refuses  all  modern  light.  The  Spanish  Jews 
had  a  more  ancient  s/ioga,  but  it  was  within  a  stone's  throw  of 
the  "Duke's  Place"  edifice.  Decomm  was  not  a  feature  of 
synagogue  worship  in  those  days,  nor  was  the  Almighty  yet  con- 
ceived as  the  holder  of  formal  receptions  once  a  week.  Wor- 
shippers did  not  pray  with  bated  breath,  as  if  afraid  that  the 
deity  would  overhear  them.  They  were  at  ease  in  Zion.  They 
passed  the  snuff-boxes  and  remarks  about  the  weather.  The 
opportunities  of  skipping  afforded  by  a  too  exuberant  liturgy  pro- 
moted conversation,  and  even  stocks  were  discussed  in  the  terri- 
ble longueurs  induced  by  the  meaningless  ministerial  repetition 
of  prayers  already  said  by  the  congregation,  or  by  the  official 
recitations  of  catalogues  of  purchased  benedictions.  Sometimes, 
of  course,  this  announcement  of  the  offertory  was  interesting, 
especially  when  there  was  sensational  competition.  The  great 
people  bade  in  guineas  for  the  privilege  of  rolling  up  the  Scroll 
of  the  Law  or  drawing  the  Curtain  of  the  Ark,  or  saying  a  par- 
ticular Kaddish  if  they  were  mourners,  and  then  thrills  of  rever- 
ence went  round  the  congregation.     The  social  hierarchy  was  to 


xii  PROEM. 

some  extent  graduated  by  synagogal  contributions,  and  whoever 
could  afford  only  a  little  offering  had  it  announced  as  a  "gift"  — 
a  vague  term  which  might  equally  be  the  covering  of  a  reticent 
munificence. 

Very  few  persons,  "  called  up ''  to  the  reading  of  the  Law, 
escaped  at  the  cost  they  had  intended,  for  one  is  easily  led  on  by 
an  insinuative  official  incapable  of  taking  low  views  of  the  donor's 
generosity  and  a  little  deaf.  The  moment  prior  to  the  decla- 
ration of  the  amount  was  quite  exciting  for  the  audience.  On 
Sabbaths  and  festivals  the  authorities  could  not  write  down  these 
sums,  for  writing  is  w^ork  and  work  is  forbidden ;  even  to  write 
them  in  the  book  and  volume  of  their  brain  would  have  been  to 
charge  their  memories  with  an  illegitimate  if  not  an  impossible 
burden.  Parchment  books  on  a  peculiar  system  with  holes  in 
the  pages  and  laces  to  go  through  the  holes  solved  the  problem 
of  bookkeeping  without  pen  and  ink.  It  is  possible  that  many 
of  the  worshippers  were  tempted  to  give  beyond  their  means  for 
fear  of  losing  the  esteem  of  the  Shatninos  or  Beadle,  a  potent 
personage  only  next  in  influence  to  the  President  whose  overcoat 
he  obsequiously  removed  on  the  greater  man's  annual  visit  to 
the  synagogue.  The  Beadle's  eye  was  all  over  the  Shool  at 
once,  and  he  could  settle  an  altercation  about  seats  without 
missing  a  single  response.  His  automatic  amens  resounded 
magnificently  through  the  synagogue,  at  once  a  stimulus  and  a 
rebuke.  It  was  probably  as  a  concession  to  him  that  poor  men, 
who  were  neither  seat-holders  nor  wearers  of  chimney-pot  hats, 
were  penned  within  an  iron  enclosure  near  the  door  of  the  build- 
ing and  ranged  on  backless  benches,  and  it  says  much  for  the 
authority  of  the  Shammos  that  not  even  the  Schnon-er  contested 
it.  Prayers  w-ere  shouted  rapidly  by  the  congregation,  and  elab- 
orately sung  by  the  CJiasan.  The  minister  was  Vox  et  praterea 
nihil.  He  was  the  only  musical  instrument  permitted,  and  on 
him  devolved  the  whole  onus  of  making  the  service  attractive. 
He  succeededSC^e  was  helped  by  the  sociability  of  the  gather- 
ing—  for  the  Synagogue  was  virtually  a  Jewish  Club,  the  focus 
of  the  sectarian  life/^ 

"sHard  times  and  bitter  had  some  of  the  fathers  of  the  Ghetto, 
■i 


PROEM,  xiii 

but  they  ate  their  dry  bread  with  the  salt  of  humor,  loved  their 
wives,  and  praised  God  for  His  mercies.  ,'  Unwitting  of  the 
genealogies  that  would  be  found  for  them  by  their  prosperous 
grandchildren,  old  clo'  men  plied  their  trade  in  ambitious  con- 
tent. They  were  meek  and  timorous  outside  the  Ghetto,  walking 
warily  for  fear  of  the  Christian.  Sufferance  was  still  the  badge 
of  all  their  tribe.  Yet  that  there  were  Jews  who  held  their 
heads  high,  let  the  following  legend  tell :  Few  men  could  shuffle 
along  more  inoffensively  or  cry  "•  Old  Clo' '"  with  a  meeker  twitter 
than  Sleepy  Sol.  The  old  man  crawled  one  day,  bowed  with 
humility  and  clo'-bag,  into  a  military  mews  and  uttered  his  trem- 
ulous chirp.  To  him  came  one  of  the  hostlers  with  insolent 
beetling  brow. 

"  Any  gold  lace  ?  '^  faltered  Sleepy  Sol. 

"  Get  out  ! "  roared  the  hostler. 

"  ril  give  you  de  best  prices,''  pleaded  Sleepy  Sol. 

"Get  out!"  repeated  the  hostler  and  hustled  the  old  man 
into  the  street.  ''If  I  catch  you  'ere  again,  I'll  break  your 
neck."  Sleepy  Sol  loved  his  neck,  but  j;he  profit  on  gold  lace 
torn  from  old  uniforms  was  high.  Next  week  he  crept  into  the 
mews  again,  trusting  to  meet  another  hostler. 

"Clo'  !  Clo' !"  he  chirped  faintly. 

Alas!  the  brawny  bully  was  to  the  fore  again  and  recognized 
him. 

"  You  dirty  old  Jew,"  he  cried.  "  Take  that,  and  that  !  The 
next  time  I  sees  you,  you'll  go  'ome  on  a  shutter." 

The  old  man  took  that,  and  that,  and  went  on  his  way.  The 
next  day  he  came  again. 

"  Clo' !  Clo' !  "  he  whimpered. 

"  What ! "  said  the  ruffian,  his  coarse  cheeks  flooded  with 
angry  blood.  "Ev  yer  forgotten  what  I  promised  yer?"  He 
seized  Sleepy  Sol  by  the  scruff  of  the  neck. 

"  I  say,  why  can't  you  leave  the  old  man  alone  ?  " 

The  hostler  stared  at  the  protester,  whose  presence  he  had 
not  noticed  in  the  pleasurable  excitement  of  the  moment.  It  was 
a  Jewish  young  man,  indifferently  attired  in  a  pepper-and-salt  suit. 
The  muscular  hostler  measured  him  scornfully  with  his  eye. 


xiv  PROEM. 

"What's  to  do  with  you?'^  he  said,  with  studied  contempt. 

"  Nothing,"  admitted  the  intruder.  "  And  what  harm  is  he 
doing  you? " 

"  That's  my  bizness,"  answered  the  hostler,  and  tightened  his 
clutch  of  Sleepy  SoPs  nape. 

"Well,  you'd  better  not  mind  it,"  answered  the  young  man 
calmly.     "  Let  go." 

The  hostler's  thick  lips  emitted  a  disdainful  laugh. 

"Let  go,  d'you  hear?"  repeated  the  young  man. 

"I'll  let  go  at  your  nose,"  said  the  hostler,  clenching  his 
knobby  fist. 

"  Very  well,"  said  the  young  man.     "  Then  111  pull  yours." 

"  Oho  !  "  said  the  hostler,  his  scowl  growing  fiercer.  "  Yer 
means  bizness,  does  yer  ? "  With  that  he  sent  Sleepy  Sol 
staggering  along  the  road  and  rolled  up  his  shirt-sleeves.  His 
coat  was  already  off. 

The  young  man  did  not  remove  his  ;  he  quietly  assumed  the 
defensive.  The  hostler  sparred  up  to  him  with  grim  earnest- 
ness, and  launched  a  terrible  blow  at  his  most  characteristic 
feature.  The  young  man  blandly  put  it  on  one  side,  and 
planted  a  return  blow  on  the  hostler's  ear.  Enraged,  his  oppo- 
nent sprang  upon  him.  The  young  Jew  paralyzed  him  by 
putting  his  left  hand  negligently  into  his  pocket.  With  his 
remaining  hand  he  closed  the  hostler's  right  eye,  and  sent  the 
flesh  about  it  into  mourning.  Then  he  carelessly  tapped  a  little 
blood  from  the  hostler's  nose,  gave  him  a  few  thumps  on  the 
chest  as  if  to  test  the  strength  of  his  lungs,  and  laid  him  sprawl- 
ing in  the  courtyard.  A  brother  hostler  ran  out  from  the 
stables  and  gave  a  cry  of  astonishment. 

"  You'd  better  wipe  his  face,"  said  the  young  man  curtly. 

The  newcomer  hurried  back  towards  the  stables. 

"  Vait  a  moment,"  said  Sleepy  Sol.  "  I  can  sell  you  a  sponge 
sheap  ;  I've  got  a  beauty  in  my  bag." 

There  were  plenty  of  sponges  about,  but  the  newcomer  bought 
the  second-hand  sponge. 

"Do  you  want  any  more?"  the  young  man  affably  inquired  of 
his  prostrate  adversary. 


PROEM.  XV 

The  hostler  gave  a  groan.  He  was  shamed  before  a  friend 
whom  he  had  early  convinced  of  his  fistic  superiority. 

"  No,  I  reckon  he  don't/'  said  his  friend,  with  a  knowing  grin 
at  the  conqueror. 

"Then  I  will  wish  you  a  good  day,"  said  the  young  man. 
"  Come  along,  father." 

"Yes,  ma  son-in-law,"  said  Sleepy  Sol. 

"Do  you  know  who  that  was,  Joe?"  said  his  friend,  as  he 
sponged  away  the  blood. 

Joe  shook  his  head. 

"  That  was  Dutch  Sam,"  said  his  friend  in  an  awe-struck 
whisper. 

All  Joe's  body  vibrated  with  surprise  and  respect.  Dutch 
Sam  was  the  champion  bruiser  of  his  time ;  in  private  life  an 
eminent  dandy  and  a  prime  favorite  of  His  Majesty  George  IV., 
and  Sleepy  Sol  had  a  beautiful  daughter  and  was  perhaps  pre- 
possessing himself  when  washed  for  the  Sabbath. 

"Dutch  Sam!"  Joe  repeated. 

"Dutch  Sam!  Why,  we've  got  his  picter  hanging  up  inside, 
only  he's  naked  to  the  waist." 

"Well,  strike  me  lucky!  What  a  fool  I  was  not  to  rekkernize 
'im!"     His  battered  face  brightened  up.     "  No  wonder  he  licked 


fii 


me; 

Except  for  the  comparative  infrequency  of  the  more  bestial 
types  of  men  and  women,  Judaea  has  always  been  a  cosmos  in 
little,  and  its  prize-fighters  and  scientists,  its  philosophers  and 
"  fences,"  its  gymnasts  and  money-lenders,  its  scholars  and  stock- 
brokers, its  musicians,  chess-players,  poets,  comic  singers,  luna- 
tics, saints,  publicans,  politicians,  warriors,  poltroons,  mathema- 
ticians, actors,  foreign  correspondents,  have  always  been  in  the 
first  rank.     NiJiil  alieniDii  a  se  JitdcEiis  piitat. 

Joe  and  his  friend  fell  to  recalling  Dutch  Sam's  great  feats. 
Each  out-vied  the  other  in  admiration  for  the  supreme  pugilist. 

Next  day  Sleepy  Sol  came  rampaging  down  the  courtyard. 
He  walked  at  the  rate  of  five  miles  to  the  hour,  and  despite  the 
weight  of  his  bag  his  head  pointed  to  the  zenith. 

"Clo'!"  he  shrieked.     "Clo'!" 


xvi  PROEM. 

Joe  the  hostler  came  out.  His  head  was  bandaged,  and  in  his 
hand  was  gold  lace.  It  was  something  even  to  do  business  with 
a  hero's  father-in-law. 

But  it  is  given  to  few  men  to  marry  their  daughters  to  cham- 
pion boxers ;  and  as  Dutch  Sam  was  not  a  Don  Quixote,  the 
average  peddler  or  huckster  never  enjoyed  the  luxury  of  prancing 
gait  and  cock-a-hoop  business  cry.  The  primitive  fathers  of  the 
Ghetto  might  have  borne  themselves  more  jauntily  had  tliey  fore- 
seen that  they  were  to  be  the  ancestors  of  mayors  and  aldermen 
descended  from  Castilian  hidalgos  and  Polish  kings,  and  that 
an  unborn  historian  would  conclude  that  the  Ghetto  of  their  day 
was  peopled  by  princes  in  disguise.  T  They  would  have  been  as 
surprised  to  learn  who  they  were  as  to  be  informed  that  they 
were  orthodox.  The  great  Reform  split  did  not  occur  till  well 
on  towards  the  middle  of  the  century,  and  the  Jews  of  those 
days  were  unable  to  conceive  that  a  man  could  be  a  Jew  without 
eating  kosher  meat,  and  they  would  have  looked  upon  the  modern 
distinctions  between  racial  and  religious  Jews  as  the  sophistries 
of  the  convert  or  the  missionary^'  If  their  religious  life  converged 
to  the  Great  Shool,  their  social  life  focussed  on  Petticoat  Lane,  a 
long,  narrow  thoroughfare  which,  as  late  as  Strype's  day,  was 
lined  with  beautiful  trees ;  vastly  more  pleasant  they  must  have 
been  than  the  faded  barrows  and  beggars  of  after  days.  The 
Lane  —  such  was  its  affectionate  sobriquet  —  was  the  stronghold 
of  hard-shell  Judaism,  the  Alsatia  of  "  infidelity  "  into  which  no 
missionary  dared  set  foot,  especially  no  apostate-apostlei^>  Even 
in  modern  days  the  new-fangled  Jewish  minister  of  the  fashion- 
able suburb,  rigged  out  like  the  Christian  clergyman,  has  been 
mistaken  for  such  a  Meshiimad,  and  pelted  with  gratuitous  vege- 
tables and  eleemosynary  eggs.  The  Lane  was  always  the  great 
market-place,  and  every  insalubrious  street  and  alley  abutting  on 
it  was  covered  with  the  overflowings  of  its  commerce  and  its 
mud.  Wentworth  Street  and  Goulston  Street  were  the  chief 
branches,  and  in  festival  times  the  latter  was  a  pandemonium  of 
caged  poultry,  clucking  and  quacking  and  cackling  and  scream- 
ing. Fowls  and  geese  and  ducks  were  bought  alive,  and  taken 
to  have  their  throats  cut  for  a  fee  by  the  official  slaughterer.     At 


PROEM.  xvii 

Purim  a  gaiety,  as  of  the  Roman  carnival,  enlivened  the  swampy 
Wentworth  Street,  and  brought  a  smile  into  the  unwashed  face 
of  the  pavement.  The  confectioners^  shops,  crammed  with 
"  stuffed  monkeys "  and  ''  bolas,''  were  -besieged  by  hilarious 
crowds  of  handsome  girls  and  their  young  men,  fat  women  and 
their  children,  all  washing  down  the  luscious  spicy  compounds 
with  cups  of  chocolate  ;  temporarily  erected  swinging  cradles 
bore  a  vociferous  many-colored  burden  to  the  skies ;  cardboard 
noses,  grotesque  in  their  departure  from  truth,  abounded.  The 
Purim  spiel  or  Purim  play  never  took  root  in  England,  nor  was 
Haman  ever  burnt  in  the  streets,  but  Shalachmonos,  or  gifts  of 
the  season,  passed  between  friend  and  friend,  and  masquerading 
parties  burst  into  neighbors'  houses.  But  the  Lane  was  lively 
enough  on  the  ordinary  Friday  and  Sunday.  The  famous  Sun- 
day Fair  was  an  event  of  metropolitan  importance,  and  thither 
came  buyers  of  every  sect.  The  Friday  Fair  was  more  local,  and 
confined  mainly  to  edibles.  The  Ante-Festival  Fairs  combined 
something  of  the  other  two,  for  Jews  desired  to  sport  new  hats 
and  clothes  for  the  holidays  as  well  as  to  eat  extra  luxuries,  and 
took  the  opportunity  of  a  well-marked  epoch  to  invest  in  new 
every  things  from  oil -cloth  to  cups  and  saucers.  Especially  was 
this  so  at  Passover,  when  for  a  week  the  poorest  Jew  must  use  a 
supplementary  set  of  crockery  and  kitchen  utensils.  A  babel  of 
sound,  audible  for  several  streets  around,  denoted  Market  Day 
in  Petticoat  Lane,  and  the  pavements  were  blocked  by  serried 
crowds  going  both  ways  at  once. 

It  was  only  gradually  that  the  community  was  Anglicized. 
Under  the  sway  of  centrifugal  impulses,  the  wealthier  members 
began  to  form  new  colonies,  moulting  their  old  feathers  and 
replacing  them  by  finer,  and  flying  ever  further  from  the  centre. 
Men  of  organizing  ability  founded  unrivalled  philanthropic  and 
educational  institutions  on  British  lines  ;  millionaires  fought  for 
political  emancipation ;  brokers  brazenly  foisted  themselves  on 
'Change  ;  ministers  gave  sermons  in  bad  English  ;  an  English 
journal  was  started ;  very  slowly,  the  conventional  Anglican 
tradition  was  established  ;  and  on  that  human  palimpsest  which 
has  borne  the  inscriptions  of  all  languages  and  all  epochs,  was 


xviii  PROEM. 

writ  large  the  sign-manual  of  England.  Judaea  prostrated  itself 
before  the  Dagon  of  its  hereditary  foe,  the  Philistine,  and  re- 
spectability crept  on  to  freeze  the  blood  of  the  Orient  with  its 
frigid  finger,  and  to  blur  the  vivid  tints  of  the  East  into  the 
uniform  gray  of  English  middle-class  life.  Qn  the  period  within 
which  our  story  moves,  only  vestiges  of  the  old  gaiety  and 
brotherhood  remained  ;  the  full  al  fresco  flavor  was  evaporated^ 

And  to-day  they  are  all  dead  —  the  Takeefitn  with  big  hearts 
and  bigger  purses,  and  the  humorous  Sc/uiorrers,  who  accepted 
their  gold,  and  the  cheerful  pious  peddlers  who  rose  from  one 
extreme  to  the  other,  building  up  fabulous  fortunes  in  marvellous 
ways.  The  young  mothers,  who  suckled  their  babes  in  the  sun, 
have  passed  out  of  the  sunshine ;  yea,  and  the  babes,  too,  have 
gone  down  with  gray  heads  to  the  dust.  Dead  are  the  fair  fat 
women,  with  tender  hearts,  who  waddled  benignantly  through 
life,  ever  ready  to  shed  the  sympathetic  tear,  best  of  wives,  and 
cooks,  and  mothers ;  dead  are  the  bald,  ruddy  old  men,  who 
ambled  about  in  faded  carpet  slippers,  and  passed  the  snuflf-box 
of  peace ;  dead  are  the  stout-hearted  youths  who  sailed  away  to 
Tom  Tiddler's  ground,  and  dead  are  the  buxom  maidens  they 
led  under  the  wedding  canopy  when  they  returned.  Even  the 
great  Dr.  Sequira,  pompous  in  white  stockings,  physician  ex- 
traordinary to  the  Prince  Regent  of  Portugal,  lies  vanquished 
by  his  life-long  adversary  and  the  Baal  Shem  himself.  King  of 
Cabalists,  could  command  no  countervailing  miracle. 

Where  are  the  little  girls  in  white  pinafores  with  pink  sashes 
who  brightened  the  Ghetto  on  high  days  and  holidays?  Where 
is  the  beauteous  Betsy  of  the  Victoria  Ballet?  and  where  the 
jocund  synagogue  dignitary  who  led  off  the  cotillon  with  her 
at  the  annual  Rejoicing  of  the  Law?  Worms  have  long  since 
picked  the  great  financier's  brain,  the  embroidered  waistcoats  of 
the  bucks  have  passed  even  beyond  the  stage  of  adorning  sweeps 
on  May  Day,  and  Dutch  Sam's  fist  is  bonier  than  ever.  The 
same  mould  covers  them  all  —  those  who  donated  guineas  and 
those  who  donated  "  gifts,"  the  rogues  and  the  hypocrites,  and 
the  wedding-drolls,  the  observant  and  the  lax,  the  purse-proud 
and  the  lowly,  the  coarse  and  the  genteel,  the  wonderful  chap- 


PROEM.  xix 

men  and  the  luckless  Schlemzhls,  Rabbi  and  Dayan  and  Shochet^ 
the  scribes  who  wrote  the  sacred  scroll  and  the  cantors  who 
trolled  it  off  mellifluous  tongues,  and  the  betting-men  who  never 
listened  to  it ;  the  grimy  Russians  of  the  capotes  and  the  ear- 
locks,  and  the  blue-blooded  Dons,  "  the  gentlemen  of  the 
Mahamad,"  who  ruffled  it  with  swords  and  knee-breeches  in 
the  best  Christian  society.  Those  who  kneaded  the  toothsome 
"  bolas  "  lie  with  those  who  ate  them  ;  and  the  marriage-brokers 
repose  with  those  they  mated.  The  olives  and  the  cucumbers 
grow  green  and  fat  as  of  yore,  but  their  lovers  are  mixed  with  a 
soil  that  is  barren  of  them.  The  restless,  bustling  crowds  that 
jostled  laughingly  in  Rag  Fair  are  at  rest  in  the  "  House  of 
Life ;  "  the  pageant  of  their  strenuous  generation  is  vanished 
as  a  dream.  They  died  with  the  declaration  of  God's  unity  on 
their  stiffening  lips,  and  the  certainty  of  resurrection  in  their 
pulseless  hearts,  and  a  faded  Hebrew  inscription  on  a  tomb,  or 
an  unread  entry  on  a  synagogue  brass  is  their  only  record. 
And  yet,  perhaps,  their  generation  is  not  all  dust.  Perchance, 
here  and  there,  some  decrepit  centenarian  rubs  his  purblind 
eyes  with  the  ointment  of  memory,  and  sees  these  pictures  of 
the  past,  hallowed  by  the  consecration  of  time,  and  finds  his 
shrivelled  cheek  wet  with  the  pathos  sanctifying  the  joys  that 
have  been. 


Book  I. 
CHILDREN   OF   THE  GHETTO. 


CHAPTER    I. 

THE   BREAD   OF   AFFLICTION. 

A  DEAD  and  gone  wag  called  the  street  "  Fashion  Street,"  and 
most  of  the  people  who  live  in  it  do  not  even  see  the  joke.  If  it 
could  exchange  names  with  "  Rotten  Row,"  both  places  would  be 
more  appropriately  designated.  It  is  a  dull,  squalid,  narrow  thor- 
oughfare in  the  East  End  of  London,  connecting  Spitalfields  with 
Whitechapel,  and  branching  off  in  blind  alleys.  In  the  days  when 
little  Esther  Ansell  trudged  its  unclean  pavements,  its  extremities 
were  within  earshot  of  the  blasphemies  from  some  of  the  vilest 
quarters  and  filthiest  rookeries  in  the  capital  of  the  civilized  world. 
Some  of  these  clotted  spiders'-webs  have  since  been  swept  away 
by  the  besom  of  the  social  reformer,  and  the  spiders  have  scurried 
off  into  darker  crannies. 

There  were  the  conventional  touches  about  the  London  street- 
picture,  as  Esther  Ansell  sped  through  the  freezing  mist  of  the 
December  evening,  with  a  pitcher  in  her  hand,  looking  in  her 
oriental  coloring  like  a  miniature  of  Rebecca  going  to  the  well. 
A  female  street-singer,  with  a  trail  of  infants  of  dubious  mater- 
nity, troubled  the  air  with  a  piercing  melody ;  a  pair  of  slatterns 
with  arms  a-kimbo  reviled  each  other's  relatives ;  a  drunkard 
lurched  along,  babbling  amiably  ;  an  organ-grinder,  blue-nosed  as 
his  monkey,  set  some  ragged  children  jigging  under  the  watery 
rays  of  a  street-lamp.  Esther  drew  her  little  plaid  shawl  tightly 
around  her,  and  ran  on  without  heeding  these  familiar  details, 
her  chilled  feet  absorbing  the  damp  of  the  murky  pavement 
through  the  worn  soles  of  her  cumbrous  boots.  They  were  mas- 
culine boots,  kicked  off  by  some  intoxicated  tramp  and  picked 
up  by  Esther's  father.  Moses  Ansell  had  a  habit  of  lighting  on 
windfalls,  due,  perhaps,  to  his  meek  manner  of  walking  with  bent 
head,  as  though  literally  bowed  beneath  the  yoke  of  the  Captiv- 

3 


4  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

ity.  Providence  rewarded  him  for  his  humihty  by  occasional 
treasure-trove.  Esther  had  received  a  pair  of  new  boots  from 
her  school  a  week  before,  and  the  substitution  of  the  tramp's 
foot-gear  for  her  own  resulted  in  a  net  profit  of  half-a-crown,  and 
kept  Esther's  little  brothers  and  sisters  in  bread  for  a  week.  At 
school,  under  her  teacher's  eye,  Esther  was  very  unobtrusive  about 
the  feet  for  the  next  fortnight,  but  as  the  fear  of  being  found  out 
died  away,  even  her  rather  morbid  conscience  condoned  the 
deception  in  view  of  the  stomachic  gain. 

They  gave  away  bread  and  milk  at  the  school,  too,  but  Esther 
and  her  brothers  and  sisters  never  took  either,  for  fear  of  being 
thought  in  want  of  them.  The  superiority  of  a  class-mate  is  hard 
to  bear,  and  a  high-spirited  child  will  not  easily  acknowledge  star- 
vation in  presence  of  a  roomful  of  purse-proud  urchins,  some  of 
them  able  to  spend  a  farthing  a  day  on  pure  luxuries.  Moses 
Ansell  would  have  been  grieved  had  he  known  his  children  were 
refusing  the  bread  he  could  not  give  them.  Trade  was  slack  in 
the  sweating  dens,  and  Moses,  who  had  always  lived  from  hand 
to  mouth,  had  latterly  held  less  than  ever  between  the  one  and 
the  other.  He  had  applied  for  help  to  the  Jewish  Board  of 
Guardians,  but  red-tape  rarely  unwinds  as  quickly  as  hunger  coils 
itself;  moreover,  Moses  was  an  old  offender  in  poverty  at  the 
Court  of  Charity.  But  there  was  one  species  of  alms  which 
Moses  could  not  be  denied,  and  the  existence  of  which  Esther 
could  not  conceal  from  him  as  she  concealed  that  of  the  elee- 
mosynary breakfasts  at  the  school.  For  it  was  known  to  all  men 
that  soup  and  bread  were  to  be  had  for  the  asking  thrice  a  week 
at  the  Institution  in  Fashion  Street,  and  in  the  Ansell  household 
the  opening  of  the  soup-kitchen  was  looked  forward  to  as  the 
dawn  of  a  golden  age,  when  it  would  be  impossible  to  pass  more 
than  one  day  without  bread.  The  vaguely-remembered  smell  of 
the  soup  threw  a  poetic  fragrance  over  the  coming  winter.  Every 
year  since  Esther's  mother  had  died,  the  child  had  been  sent  to 
fetch  home  the  provender,  for  Moses,  who  was  the  only  other 
available  member  of  the  family,  was  always  busy  praying  when  he 
had  nothing  better  to  do.  And  so  to-night  Esther  fared  to  the 
kitchen,  with  her  red  pitcher,  passing  in  her  childish  eagerness 


THE   BREAD    OF  AFFLICTION.  5 

numerous  women  shuffling  along  on  the  same  errand,  and  bearing 
uncouth  tin  cans  supphed  by  the  institution.  An  individualistic 
instinct  of  cleanliness  made  Esther  prefer  the  family  pitcher. 
To-day  this  liberty  of  choice  has  been  taken  away,  and  the 
regulation  can,  numbered  and  stamped,  serves  as  a  soup-ticket. 
There  was  quite  a  crowd  of  applicants  outside  the  stable-like 
doors  of  the  kitchen  when  Esther  arrived,  a  few  with  well-lined 
stomachs,  perhaps,  but  the  majority  famished  and  shivering.  The 
feminine  element  swamped  the  rest,  but  there  were  about  a  dozen 
men  and  a  few  children  among  the  group,  most  of  the  men  scarce 
taller  than  the  children  —  strange,  stunted,  swarthy,  hairy  creat- 
ures, with  muddy  complexions  illumined  by  black,  twinkling 
eyes.  A  few  were  of  imposing  stature,  wearing  coarse,  dusty  felt 
hats  or  peaked  caps,  with  shaggy  beards  or  faded  scarfs  around 
their  throats.  Here  and  there,  too,  was  a  woman  of  comely  face 
and  figure,  but  for  the  most  part  it  was  a  collection  of  crones, 
prematurely  aged,  with  weird,  wan,  old-world  features,  slip-shod 
and  draggle-tailed,  their  heads  bare,  or  covered  with  dingy  shawls 
in  lieu  of  bonnets  —  red  shawls,  gray  shawls,  brick-dust  shawls, 
mud-colored  shawls.  Yet  there  was  an  indefinable  touch  of 
romance  and  pathos  about  the  tawdriness  and  witch-like  ugli- 
ness, and  an  underlying  identity  about  the  crowd  of  Polish,  Rus- 
sian, German,  Dutch  Jewesses,  mutually  apathetic,  and  pressing 
forwards-  Some  of  them  had  infants  at  their  barff  breasts,  who 
drowsed  quietly  with  intervals  of  ululation.  The  women  devoid 
of  shawls  had  nothing  around  their  necks  to  protect  them  from 
the  cold,  the  dusky  throats  were  exposed,  and  sometimes  even 
the  first  hooks  and  eyes  of  the  bodice  were  unnecessarily  undone. 
The  majority  wore  cheap  earrings  and  black  wigs  with  preter- 
naturally  polished  hair ;  where  there  was  no  wig,  the  hair  was 
touzled. 

At  half-past  five  the  stable-doors  were  thrown  open,  and  the 
crowd  pressed  through  a  long,  narrow  white-washed  stone  cor- 
ridor into  a  barn-like  compartment,  with  a  white-washed  ceiling 
traversed  by  wooden  beams.  Within  this  compartment,  and 
leaving  but  a  narrow,  circumscribing  border,  was  a  sort  of  cattle- 
pen,  into  which  the  paupers  crushed,  awaiting  amid  discomfort 


6  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

and  universal  jabber  the  divine  moment.  The  single  jet  of 
gas-light  depending  from  the  ceiling  flared  upon  the  strange 
simian  faces,  and  touched  them  into  a  grotesque  picturesque- 
ness  that  would  have  delighted  Dore. 

They  felt  hungry,  these  picturesque  people ;  their  near  and 
dear  ones  were  hungering  at  home.  Voluptuously  savoring  in 
imagination  the  operation  of  the  soup,  they  forgot  its  operation 
as  a  dole  in  aid  of  wages  ;  were  unconscious  of  the  grave  econom- 
ical possibilities  of  pauperization  and  the  rest,  and  quite  willing  to 
swallow  their  independence  with  the  soup.  Even  Esther,  who 
had  read  much,  and  was  sensitive,  accepted  unquestioningly 
the  theory  of  the  universe  that  was  held  by  most  people  about 
her,  that  human  beings  were  distinguished  from  animals  in 
having  to  toil  terribly  for  a  meagre  crust,  but  that  their  lot 
was  lightened  by  the  existence  of  a  small  and  semi-divine  class 
called  Takeejiin^  or  rich  people,  who  gave  away  what  they 
didn't  want.  How  these  rich  people  came  to  be,  Esther  did 
not  inquire ;  they  were  as  much  a  part  of  the  constitution  of 
things  as  clouds  and  horses.  The  semi-celestial  variety  was 
rarely  to  be  met  with.  It  lived  far  away  from  the  Ghetto,  and 
a  small  family  of  it  was  said  to  occupy  a  whole  house.  Rep- 
resentatives of  it,  clad  in  rustling  silks  or  impressive  broad-cloth, 
and  radiating  an  indefinable  aroma  of  superhumanity,  some- 
times came  40  the  school,  preceded  by  the  beaming  Head 
Mistress ;  and  then  all  the  little  girls  rose  and  curtseyed,  and 
the  best  of  them,  passing  as  average  members  of  the  class, 
astonished  the  semi-divine  persons  by  their  intimate  acquaint- 
ance with  the  topography  of  the  Pyrenees  and  the  disagree- 
ments of  Saul  and  David,  the  intercourse  of  the  two  species 
ending  in  effusive  smiles  and  general  satisfaction.  But  the 
dullest  of  the  girls  was  alive  to  the  comedy,  and  had  a  good- 
humored  contempt  for  the  unworldliness  of  the  semi-divine 
persons  who  spoke  to  them  as  if  they  were  not  going  to  recom- 
mence squabbling,  and  pulling  one  another's  hair,  and  copying 
one  another's  sums,  and  stealing  one  another's  needles,  the 
moment  the  semi-celestial  backs  were  turned. 

To-night,  semi-divine   persons  were  to   be   seen  in  a  galaxy 


THE  BREAD    OF  AFFLICTION.  7 

of  splendor,  for  in  the  reserved  standing-places,  behind  the 
white  deal  counter,  was  gathered  a  group  of  philanthropists. 
The  room  was  an  odd-shaped  polygon,  partially  lined  with  eight 
boilers,  whose  great  wooden  lids  were  raised  by  pulleys  and 
balanced  by  red-painted  iron  balls.  In  the  corner  stood  the 
cooking-engine.  Cooks  in  white  caps  and  blouses  stirred  the 
steaming  soup  with  long  wooden  paddles.  A  tradesman  be- 
sought the  attention  of  the  Jewish  reporters  to  the  improved 
boiler  he  had  manufactured,  and  the  superintendent  adjured 
the  newspaper  men  not  to  omit  his  name ;  while  amid  the 
soberly-clad  clergymen  flitted,  like  gorgeous  humming-birds 
through  a  flock  of  crows,  the  marriageable  daughters  of  an 
east-end  minister. 

When  a  sufficient  number  of  semi-divinities  was  gathered 
together,  the  President  addressed  the  meeting  at  considerable 
length,  striving  to  impress  upon  the  clergymen  and  other  phi- 
lanthropists present  that  charity  was  a  virtue,  and  appealing  to 
the  Bible,  the  Koran,  and  even  the  Vedas,  for  confirmation  of 
his  proposition.  Early  in  his  speech  the  sliding  door  that  sepa- 
rated the  cattle-pen  from  the  kitchen  proper  had  to  be  closed, 
because  the  jostling  crowd  jabbered  so  much  and  inconsiderate 
infants  squalled,  and  there  did  not  seem  to  be  any  general  desire 
to  hear  the  President's  ethical  views.  They  were  a  low  material 
lot,  who  thought  only  of  their  bellies,  and  did  but  chatter  the 
louder  when  the  speech  was  shut  out.  They  had  overflowed 
their  barriers  by  this  time,  and  were  surging  cruelly  to  and  fro, 
and  Esther  had  to  keep  her  elbows  close  to  her  sides  lest  her 
arms  should  be  dislocated.  Outside  the  stable  doors  a  shifting 
array  of  boys  and  girls  hovered  hungrily  and  curiously.  When 
the  President  had  finished,  the  Rabbinate  was  invited  to  address 
the  philanthropists,  which  it  did  at  not  less  length,  eloquently 
seconding  the  proposition  that_  charity  was  a  virtue.  Then  the 
door  was  slid  back,  and  the  first  two  paupers  were  admitted,  the 
rest  of  the  crowd  being  courageously  kept  at  bay  by  the  super- 
intendent. The  head  cook  filled  a  couple  of  plates  with  soup, 
dipping  a  great  pewter  pot  into  the  cauldron.  The  Rabbinate 
then  uplifted  its  eyes  heavenwards,  and  said  the  grace : 


8  CHILDREN   OF  THE    GHETTO. 

"  Blessed  art  Thou,  O  Lord,  King  of  the  Universe,  according 
to  whose  word  all  things  exist." 

It  then  tasted  a  spoonful  of  the  soup,  as  did  also  the  President 
and  several  of  the  visitors,  the  passage  of  the  fluid  along  the 
palate  invariably  evoking  approving  ecstatic  smiles ;  and  indeed, 
there  was  more  body  in  it  this  opening  night  than  there  would 
be  later,  when,  in  due  course,  the  bulk  of  the  meat  would  take 
its  legitimate  place  among  the  pickings  of  office.  The  sight  of 
the  delighted  deglutition  of  the  semi-divine  persons  made  Es- 
ther's mouth  water  as  she  struggled  for  breathing  space  on  the 
outskirts  of  Paradise.  The  impatience  which  fretted  her  was 
almost  allayed  by  visions  of  stout-hearted  Solomon  and  gentle 
Rachel  and  whimpering  little  Sarah  and  Ikey,  all  gulping  down 
the  delicious  draught.  Even  the  more  stoical  father  and  grand- 
mother were  a  little  in  her  thoughts.  The  Ansells  had  eaten 
nothing  but  a  slice  of  dry  bread  each  in  the  morning.  Here 
before  her,  in  the  land  of  Goshen,  flowing  with  soup,  was  piled 
up  a  heap  of  halves  of  loaves,  while  endless  other  loaves  were 
ranged  along  the  shelves  as  for  a  giant's  table.  Esther  looked 
ravenously  at  the  four-square  tower  built  of  edible  bricks,  shiver- 
ing as  the  biting  air  sought  out  her  back  through  a  sudden  in- 
terstice in  the  heaving  mass.  The  draught  reminded  her  more 
keenlv  of  her  little  ones  huddled  together  in  the  fireless  garret 
at  home.  Ah!  what  a  happy  night  was  in  store.  She  must  not 
let  them  devour  the  two  loaves  to-night ;  that  would  be  criminal 
extravagance.  No,  one  would  suffice  for  the  banquet,  the  other 
must  be  carefully  put  by.  "  To-morrow  is  also  a  day,"  as  the  old 
grandmother  used  to  say  in  her  quaint  jargon.  But  the  banquet 
was  not  to  be  spread  as  fast  as  Esther's  fancy  could  fly ;  the 
doors  must  be  shut  again,  other  semi-divine  and  wholly  divine 
persons  (in  white  ties)  must  move  and  second  (with  eloquence 
and  length)  votes  of  thanks  to.  the  President,  the  Rabbinate, 
and  all  other  available  recipients  ;  a  French  visitor  must  express 
his  admiration  of  English  charity.  But  at  last  the  turn  of  the 
gnawing  stomachs  came.  The  motley  crowd,  still  babbling, 
made  a  slow,  forward  movement,  squeezing  painfully  through 
the  narrow  aperture,  and  shivering  a  plate  glass  window  pane  at 


THE  BREAD    OF  AFFLICTION.  9 

the  side  of  the  cattle-pen  in  the  crush  ;  the  semi-divine  persons 
rubbed  their  hands  and  smiled  genially ;  ingenious  paupers  tried 
to  dodge  round  to  the  cauldrons  by  the  semi-divine  entrance  ;  the 
tropical  humming-birds  fluttered  among -the  crows;  there  was  a 
splashing  of  ladles  and  a  gurgling  of  cascades  of  soup  into  the 
cans,  and  a  hubbub  of  voices ;  a  toothless,  white-haired,  blear- 
eyed  hag  lamented  in  excellent  English  that  soup  was  refused 
her,  owing  to  her  case  not  having  yet  been  investigated,  and  her 
tears  moistened  the  one  loaf  she  received.  In  like  hard  case  a 
Russian  threw  himself  on  the  stones  and  howled.  But  at  last 
Esther  was  running  through  the  mist,  warmed  by  the  pitcher 
which  she  hugged  to  her  bosom,  and  suppressing  the  blind  im- 
pulse to  pinch  the  pair  of  loaves  tied  up  in  her  pinafore.  She 
almost  flew  up  the  dark  flight  of  stairs  to  the  attic  in  Royal 
Street.  Little  Sarah  was  sobbing  querulously.  Esther,  con- 
scious of  being  an  angel  of  deliverance,  tried  to  take  the  last 
two  steps  at  once,  tripped  and  tumbled  ignominiously  against 
the  garret-door,  which  flew  back  and  let  her  fall  into  the  room 
with  a  crash.  The  pitcher  shivered  into  fragments  under  her 
aching  little  bosom,  the  odorous  soup  spread  itself  in  an  irreg- 
ular pool  over  the  boards,  and  flowed  under  the  two  beds  and 
dripped  down  the  crevices  into  the  room  beneath.  Esther  burst 
into  tears ;  her  frock  was  wet  and  greased,  her  hands  were  cut 
and  bleeding.  Little  Sarah  checked  her  sobs  at  the  disaster. 
Moses  Ansell  was  not  yet  returned  from  evening  service,  but  the 
withered  old  grandmother,  whose  wizened  face  loomed  through 
the  gloom  of  the  cold,  unlit  garret,  sat  up  on  the  bed  and  cursed 
her  angrily  for  a  Schleinihl.  A  sense  of  injustice  made  Esther 
cry  more  bitterly.  She  had  never  broken  anything  for  years 
past.  Ikey,  an  eerie-looking  dot  of  four  and  a  half  years,  tot- 
tered towards  her  (all  the  Ansells  had  learnt  to  see  in  the  dark), 
and  nestling  his  curly  head  against  her  wet  bodice,  murmured : 
"  Neva  mind,  Estie,  I  lat  oo  teep  in  my  new  bed." 
The  consolation  of  sleeping  in  that  imaginary  new  bed  to  the 
possession  of  which  Ikey  was  always  looking  forward  was  appar- 
ently adequate  ;  for  Esther  got  up  from  the  floor  and  untied  the 
loaves  from  her  pinafore.     A  reckless  spirit  of  defiance  possessed 


10  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

her,  as  of  a  gambler  who  throws  good  money  after  bad.  They 
should  have  a  mad  revelry  to-night  —  the  two  loaves  should  be 
eaten  at  once.  One  (minus  a  hunk  for  father's  supper)  would 
hardly  satisfy  six  voracious  appetites.  Solomon  and  Rachel,  irre- 
pressibly  excited  by  the  sight  of  the  bread,  rushed  at  it  greedily, 
snatched  a  loaf  from  Esther's  hand,  and  tore  off  a  crust  each  with 
their  fingers. 

"  Heathen,''  cried  the  old  grandmother.  "  Washing  and  bene- 
diction." 

Solomon  was  used  to  being  called  a  '•  heathen  "  by  the  Bube. 
He  put  on  his  cap  and  went  grudgingly  to  the  bucket  of  water 
that  stood  in  a  corner  of  the  room,  and  tipped  a  drop  over  his 
fingers.  It  is  to  be  feared  that  neither  the  quantity  of  water  nor 
the  area  of  hand  covered  reached  even  the  minimum  enjoined  by 
Rabbinical  law.  He  murmured  something  intended  for  Hebrew 
during  the  operation,  and  was  beginning  to  mutter  the  devout 
little  sentence  which  precedes  the  eating  of  bread  when  Rachel, 
who  as  a  female  was  less  driven  to  the  lavatory  ceremony,  and 
had  thus  got  ahead  of  him,  paused  in  her  ravenous  mastication 
and  made  a  wr}^  face.  Solomon  took  a  huge  bite  at  his  crust, 
then  he  uttered  an  inarticulate  "  pooh,"*  and  spat  out  his  mouth- 
ful. 

There  was  no  salt  in  the  bread. 


CHAPTER   II. 

THE   SWEATER. 

The  catastrophe  was  not  complete.  There  were  some  long 
thin  fibres  of  pale  boiled  meat,  whose  juices  had  gone  to  enrich 
the  soup,  lying  about  the  floor  or  adhering  to  the  fragments  of 
the  pitcher.  Solomon,  who  was  a  curly-headed  chap  of  infinite 
resource,  discovered  them,  and  it  had  just  been  decided  to  neu- 
tralize the  insipidity  of  the  bread  by  the  far-away  flavor  of  the 
meat,  when  a  peremptory  knocking  was  heard  at  the  door,  and  a 
dazzling  vision  of  beauty  bounded  into  the  room. 


THE   SWEATER.  11 

"  'Ere  !  What  are  you  doin',  leavin'  things  leak  through  our 
ceiling?'' 

Becky  Belcovitcli  was  a  buxom,  bouncing  girl,  with  cherry 
cheeks  that  looked  exotic  in  a  land  of  pale  faces.  She  wore  a 
mass  of  black  crisp  ringlets  aggressively  suggestive  of  singeing 
and  curl-papers.  She  was  the  belle  of  Royal  Street  in  her 
spare  time,  and  womanly  triumphs  dogged  even  her  working 
hours.  She  was  sixteen  years  old,  and  devoted  her  youth  and 
beauty  to  buttonholes.  In  the  East  End,  where  a  spade  is  a 
spade,  a  buttonhole  is  a  buttonhole,  and  not  a  primrose  or  a 
pansy.  There  are  two  kinds  of  buttonhole  —  the  coarse  for  slop 
goods  and  the  fine  for  gentlemanly  wear.  Becky  concentrated 
herself  on  superior  buttonholes,  which  are  worked  with  fine 
twist.  She  stitched  them  in  her  father's  workshop,  which  was 
more  comfortable  than  a  stranger's,  and  better  fitted  for  evading 
the  Factory  Acts.  To-night  she  was  radiant  in  silk  and  jewelry, 
and  her  pert  snub  nose  had  the  insolence  of  felicity  which  Aga- 
memnon deprecated.  Seeing  her,  you  would  have  as  soon  con- 
nected her  with  Esoteric  Buddhism  as  with  buttonholes. 

The  Bube  explained  the  situation  in  voluble  Yiddish,  and 
made  Esther  wince  again  under  the  impassioned  invective  on 
her  clumsiness.  The  old  beldame  expended  enough  oriental 
metaphor  on  the  accident  to  fit  up  a  minor  poet.  If  the  family 
died  of  starvation,  their  blood  would  be  upon  their  grand- 
daughter's head. 

"  Well,  why  don't  you  wipe  it  up,  stupid  ? "  said  Becky. 
"  'Ow  would  you  like  to  pay  for  Pesach's  new  coat  ?  It  just 
dripped  past  his  shoulder." 

"  I'm  so  sorry,  Becky,"  said  Esther,  striving  hard  to  master 
the  tremor  in  her  voice.  And  drawing  a  house-cloth  from  a 
mysterious  recess,  she  went  on  her  knees  in  a  practical  prayer 
for  pardon. 

Becky  snorted  and  went  back  to  her  sister's  engagement- 
party.  For  this  was  the  secret  of  her  gorgeous  vesture,  of  her 
glittering  earrings,  and  her  massive  brooch,  as  it  was  the  secret 
of  the  transformation  of  the  Belcovitcli  workshop  (and  living 
room)  into  a  hall  of  dazzling  light.     Four  separate  gaunt  bare 


12  CHILDREN  OF  THE    GHETTO. 

arms  of  iron  gas-pipe  lifted  hymeneal  torches.  The  labels  from 
reels  of  cotton,  pasted  above  the  mantelpiece  as  indexes  of  work 
done,  alone  betrayed  the  past  and  future  of  the  room.  At  a 
long  narrow  table,  covered  with  a  white  table-cloth  spread  with 
rum,  gin,  biscuits  and  fruit,  and  decorated  with  two  wax  candles 
in  tall,  brass  candlesticks,  stood  or  sat  a  group  of  swarthy, 
neatly-dressed  Poles,  most  of  them  in  high  hats.  A  few  women 
wearing  wigs,  silk  dresses,  and  gold  chains  wound  round  half- 
washed  necks,  stood  about  outside  the  inner  circle.  A  stoop- 
ing black-bearded  blear-eyed  man  in  a  long  threadbare  coat  and 
a  black  skull  cap,  on  either  side  of  which  hung  a  corkscrew  curl, 
sat  abstractedly  eating  the  almonds  and  raisins,  in  the  central 
place  of  honor  which  befits  a  Maggid.  Before  him  were  pens 
and  ink  and  a  roll  of  parchment.  This  was  the  engagement 
contract. 

The  damages  of  breach  of  promise  were  assessed  in  advance 
and  without  respect  of  sex.  Whichever  side  repented  of  the 
bargain  undertook  to  pay  ten  pounds  by  way  of  compensation 
for  the  broken  pledge.  As  a  nation,  Israel  is  practical  and  free 
from  cant.  Romance  and  moonshine  are  beautiful  things,  but 
behind  the  glittering  veil  are  always  the  stern  realities  of  things 
and  the  weaknesses  of  human  nature.  The  high  contracting 
parties  were  signing  the  document  as  Becky  returned.  The 
bridegroom,  who  halted  a  little  on  one  leg,  was  a  tall  sallow 
man  named  Pesach  Weingott.  He  was  a  boot-maker,  who 
could  expound  the  Talmud  and  play  the  fiddle,  but  was  unable 
to  earn  a  living.  He  was  marrying  Fanny  Belcovitch  because 
his  parents-in-law  would  give  him  free  board  and  lodging  for 
a  year,  and  because  he  liked  her.  Fanny  was  a  plump,  pulpy 
girl,  not  in  the  prime  of  youth.  Her  complexion  was  fair  and 
her  manner  lymphatic,  and  if  she  was  not  so  well-favored  as 
her  sister,  she  was  more  amiable  and  pleasant.  She  could  sing 
sweetly  in  Yiddish  and  in  English,  and  had  once  been  a  panto- 
mime fairy  at  ten  shillings  a  week,  and  had  even  flourished  a 
cutlass  as  a  midshipman.  But  she  had  long  since  given  up  the 
stage,  to  become  her  father's  right  hand  woman  in  the  work- 
shop.    She  made   coats  from   morning  till  midnight  at  a  big 


THE   SWEATER.  13 

machine  with  a  massive  treadle,  and  had  pains  in  her  chest 
even  before  she  fell  in  love  with  Pesach  Weingott. 

There  was  a  hubbub  of  congratulation  (JMazzoltov^  MazzoltoVy 
good  luck),  and  a  palsy  of  handshaking,  when  the  contract  was 
signed.  Remarks,  grave  and  facetious,  flew  about  in  Yiddish, 
with  phrases  of  Polish  and  Russian  thrown  in  for  auld  lang  syne, 
and  cups  and  jugs  were  broken  in  reminder  of  the  transiency  of 
things  mortal.  The  Belcovitches  had  been  saving  up  their  already 
broken  crockery  for  the  occasion.  The  hope  was  expressed  that 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Belcovitch  would  live  to  see  '•  rejoicings  "  on  their 
other  daughter,  and  to  see  their  daughters'  daughters  under  the 
Chuppah,  or  wedding-canopy. 

Becky's  hardened  cheek  blushed  under  the  oppressive  jocu- 
larity. Everybody  spoke  Yiddish  habitually  at  No.  i  Royal 
Street,  except  the  younger  generation,  and  that  spoke  it  to  the 
elder. 

"I  always  said,  no  girl  of  mine  should  marry  a  Dutchman." 
It  was  a  dominant  thought  of  Mr.  Belcovitch's,  and  it  rose  spon- 
taneously to  his  lips  at  this  joyful  moment.  Next  to  a  Christian, 
a  Dutch  Jew  stood  lowest  in  the  gradation  of  potential  sons-in- 
law.  Spanish  Jews,  earliest  arrivals  by  way  of  Holland,  after  the 
Restoration,  are  a  class  apart,  and  look  down  on  the  later  im- 
ported As/ikenaznn,  embracing  both  Poles  and  Dutchmen  in 
their  impartial  contempt.  But  this  does  not  prevent  the  Pole 
and  the  Dutchman  from  despising  each  other.  To  a  Dutch  or 
Russian  Jew,  the  "  Pullack,"  or  Polish  Jew,  is  a  poor  creature ; 
and  scarce  anything  can  exceed  the  complacency  with  which  the 
"PuUack"  looks  down  upon  the  '•  Litvok  "  or  Lithuanian,  the 
degraded  being  whose  Shibboleth  is  literally  Sibboleth,  and  who 
says  ''ee"  where  rightly  constituted  persons  say  "  oo."  To 
mimic  the  mincing  pronunciation  of  the  "  Litvok "  affords  the 
"  Pullack  "  a  sense  of  superiority  almost  equalling  that  possessed 
by  the  English  Jew,  whose  mispronunciation  of  the  Holy  Tongue 
is  his  title  to  rank  far  above  all  foreign  varieties.  Yet  a  vein  of 
brotherhood  runs  beneath  all  these  feelings  of  mutual  superiority  ; 
like  the  cliqueism  which  draws  together  old  clo'  dealers,  though 
each  gives  fifty  per  cent,   more  than  any  other  dealer  in  the 


14  CHILDREN   OF   THE    GHETTO. 

trade.  The  Dutch  foregather  in  a  district  called  "The  Dutch 
Tenters  ;  '^  they  eat  voraciously,  and  almost  monopolize  the  ice- 
cream, hot  pea,  diamond-cutting,  cucumber,  herring,  and  cigar 
trades.  They  are  not  so  cute  as  the  Russians.  Their  women 
are  distinguished  from  other  women  by  the  flaccidity  of  their 
bodices ;  some  wear  small  woollen  caps  and  sabots.  When 
Esther  read  in  her  school-books  that  the  note  of  the  Dutch 
character  was  cleanliness,  she  wondered.  She  looked  in  vain 
for  the  scmpulously  scoured  floors  and  the  shining  caps  and 
faces.  Only  in  the  matter  of  tobacco-smoke  did  the  Dutch 
people  she  knew  live  up  to  the  geographical  "  Readers." 

German  Jews  gravitate  to  Polish  and  Russian ;  and  French 
Jews  mostly  stay  in  France.  Ici  on  ne  pai'le  pas  Fi'anqais,  is 
the  only  lingual  certainty  in  the  London  Ghetto,  which  is  a 
cosmopolitan  quarter. 

"  I  always  said  no  girl  of  mine  should  marry  a  Dutchman." 
Mr.  Belcovitch  spoke  as  if  at  the  close  of  a  long  career  devoted 
to  avoiding  Dutch  alliances,  forgetting  that  not  even  one  of  his 
daughters  was  yet  secure. 

"Nor  any  girl  of  mine,"  said  Mrs.  Belcovitch,  as  if  starting  a 
separate  proposition.  "  I  would  not  trust  a  Dutchman  with  my 
medicine-bottle,  much  less  with  my  Alte  or  my  Becky.  Dutch- 
men were  not  behind  the  door  when  the  Almighty  gave  out 
noses,  and  their  deceitfulness  is  in  proportion  to  their  noses." 

The  company  murmured  assent,  and  one  gentleman,  with  a 
rather  large  organ,  concealed  it  in  a  red  cotton  handkerchief, 
trumpeting  uneasily. 

"  The  Holy  One,  blessed  be  He,  has  given  them  larger  noses 
than  us,"  said  the  Afaggid,  "  because  they  have  to  talk  through 
them  so  much." 

A  guffaw  greeted  this  sally.  The  Maggid'^s  wit  was  relished 
even  when  not  coming  from  the  pulpit.  To  the  outsider  this 
disparagement  of  the  Dutch  nose  might  have  seemed  a  case  of 
pot  calling  kettle  black.  The  Maggid  poured  himself  out  a 
glass  of  rum,  under  cover  of  the  laughter,  and  murmuring  "  Life 
to  you,"  in  Hebrew,  gulped  it  down,  and  added,  "  They  oughtn't 
to  call  it  the  Dutch  tongue,  but  the  Dutch  nose." 


THE   SWEATER.  15 

"Yes,  I  always  wonder  how  they  can  understand  one  another," 
said  Mrs.  Belcovitch,  ''with  their  cJiatiichayacatigeiuesepoopa.'''' 
She  laughed  heartily  over  her  onomatopoetic  addition  to  the 
Yiddish  vocabulary,  screwing  up  her  nose  to  give  it  due  effect. 
She  was  a  small  sickly-looking  woman,  with  black  eyes,  and 
shrivelled  skin,  and  the  wdg  without  which  no  virtuous  wife  is 
complete.  For  a  married  woman  must  sacrifice  her  tresses  on 
the  altar  of  home,  lest  she  snare  other  men  wdth  such  sensuous 
baits.  As  a  rule,  she  enters  into  the  spirit  of  the  self-denying 
ordinance  so  enthusiastically  as  to  become  hideous  hastily  in 
every  other  respect.  It  is  forgotten  that  a  husband  is  also  a 
man.  Mrs.  Belcovitch's  head  was  not  completely  shaven  and 
shorn,  for  a  lower  stratum  of  an  unmatched  shade  of  brown 
peeped  out  in  front  of  the  shaitel,  not  even  coinciding  as  to  the 
route  of  the  central  parting. 

Meantime  Pesach  Weingott  and  Alte  (Fanny)  Belcovitch  held 
each  other's  hand,  guiltily  conscious  of  Batavian  corpuscles  in 
the  young  man's  blood.  Pesach  had  a  Dutch  uncle,  but  as  he 
had  never  talked  like  him  Alte  alone  knew.  Alte  wasn't  her 
real  name,  by  the  way,  and  Alte  was  the  last  person  in  the  world 
to  know  what  it  was.  She  was  the  Belcovitches'  first  successful 
child ;  the  others  all  died  before  she  was  born.  Driven  frantic 
by  a  fate  crueller  than  barrenness,  the  Belcovitches  consulted  an 
old  Polish  Rabbi,  who  told  them  they  displayed  too  much  fond 
solicitude  for  their  children,  provoking  Heaven  thereby  ;  in  future, 
they  were  to  let  no  one  but  themselves  know  their  next  child's 
name,  and  never  to  whisper  it  till  the  child  was  safely  married. 
In  such  wise,  Heaven  would  not  be  incessantly  reminded  of  the 
existence  of  their  dear  one,  and  w'ould  not  go  out  of  its  way  to 
castigate  them.  The  ruse  succeeded,  and  Alte  was  anxiously 
waiting  to  change  both  her  names  under  the  C/iiippah,  and  to 
gratify  her  life-long  curiosity  on  the  subject.  Meantime,  her 
mother  had  been  calling  her  "  Alte,"  or  "  old  'un,"  which 
sounded  endearing  to  the  child,  but  grated  on  the  woman  arriv- 
ing ever  nearer  to  the  years  of  discretion.  Occasionally,  Mrs. 
Belcovitch  succumbed  to  the  prevailing  tendency,  and  called  her 
"Fanny,"  just  as  she  sometimes  thought  of  herself  as  Mrs.  Bel- 


16  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

covitch,  though  her  name  was  Kosminski.  When  Alte  first 
went  to  school  in  London,  the  Head  Mistress  said,  "  Whaf s 
your  name? "  The  little  "  old  'un''  had  not  sufficient  English  to 
understand  the  question,  but  she  remembered  that  the  Head 
Mistress  had  made  the  same  sounds  to  the  preceding  applicant, 
and,  where  some  little  girls  would  have  put  their  pinafores  to 
their  eyes  and  cried,  Fanny  showed  herself  full  of  resource.  As 
the  last  little  girl,  though  patently  awe-struck,  had  come  off  with 
flying  colors,  merely  by  whimpering  "  Fanny  Belcovitch,*'  Alte 
imitated  these  sounds  as  well  as  she  was  able. 

''Fanny  Belcovitch,  did  you  say?"  said  the  Head  Mistress, 
pausing  with  arrested  pen. 

Alte  nodded  her  flaxen  poll  vigorously. 

"  Fanny  Belcovitch,"  she  repeated,  getting  the  syllables  better 
on  a  second  hearing. 

The  Head  Mistress  turned  to  an  assistant. 

*'  Isn't  it  astonishing  how  names  repeat  themselves  ?  Two 
girls,  one  after  the  other,  both  with  exactly  the  same  name." 

They  were  used  to  coincidences  in  the  school,  where,  by  reason 
of  the  tribal  relationship  of  the  pupils,  there  was  a  great  run  on 
some  half-a-dozen  names.  Mr.  Kosminski  took  several  years  to 
understand  that  Alte  had  disowned  him.  When  it  dawned  upon 
him  he  was  not  angry,  and  acquiesced  in  his  fate.  It  was  the 
only  domestic  detail  in  which  he  had  allowed  himself  to  be  led 
by  his  children.  Like  his  wife,  Chayah,  he  was  gradually  per- 
suaded into  the  belief  that  he  was  a  born  Belcovitch,  or  at  least 
that  Belcovitch  was  Kosminski  translated  into  English. 

Blissfully  unconscious  of  the  Dutch  taint  in  Pesach  Weingott, 
Bear  Belcovitch  bustled  about  in  reckless  hospitality.  He  felt 
that  engagements  were  not  every-day  events,  and  that  even  if 
his  whole  half-sovereign's  worth  of  festive  provision  was  swal- 
lowed up,  he  would  not  mind  much.  He  wore  a  high  hat,  a 
well-preserved  black  coat,  with  a  cutaway  waistcoat,  showing  a 
quantity  of  glazed  shirtfront  and  a  massive  watch  chain.  They 
were  his  Sabbath  clothes,  and,  like  the  Sabbath  they  honored, 
were  of  immemorial  antiquity.  The  shirt  served  him  for  seven 
Sabbaths,  or  a  week  of  Sabbaths,  being  carefully  folded  after 


THE   SWEATER.  17 

each.  His  boots  had  the  Sabbath  poHsh.  The  hat  was  the  one 
he  bought  when  he  first  set  up  as  a  Baal  Habaas  or  respectable 
pillar  of  the  synagogue ;  for  even  in  the  smallest  Chevra  the 
high  hat  comes  next  in  sanctity  to  the  Scroll  of  the  Law,  and  he 
who  does  not  wear  it  may  never  hope  to  attain  to  congregational 
dignities.  The  gloss  on  that  hat  was  wonderful,  considering  it 
had  been  out  unprotected  in  all  winds  and  weathers.  Not  that 
Mr.  Belcovitch  did  not  possess  an  umbrella.  He  had  two,  — 
one  of  fine  new  silk,  the  other  a  medley  of  broken  ribs  and  cotton 
rags.  Becky  had  given  him  the  first  to  prevent  the  family  dis- 
grace of  the  spectacle  of  his  promenades  with  the  second.  But 
he  would  not  carry  the  new  one  on  week-days  because  it  w^as  too 
good.  And  on  Sabbaths  it  is  a  sin  to  carry  any  umbrella.  So 
Becky's  self-sacrifice  was  vain,  and  her  umbrella  stood  in  the 
corner,  a  standing  gratification  to  the  proud  possessor.  Kos- 
minski  had  had  a  hard  fight  for  his  substance,  and  was  not  given 
to  waste.  He  was  a  tall,  harsh-looking  man  of  fifty,  with  griz- 
zled hair,  to  whom  life  meant  work,  and  work  meant  money,  and 
money  meant  savings.  In  Parliamentary  Blue-Books,  English 
newspapers,  and  the  Berner  Street  Socialistic  Club,  he  was  called 
a  "  sweater,''  and  the  comic  papers  pictured  him  with  a  protuber- 
ant paunch  and  a  greasy  smile,  but  he  had  not  the  remotest  idea 
that  he  was  other  than  a  God-fearing,  industrious,  and  even 
philanthropic  citizen.  The  measure  that  had  been  dealt  to  him 
he  did  but  deal  to  others.  He  saw  no  reason  why  immigrant 
paupers  should  not  live  on  a  crown  a  week  while  he  taught  them 
how  to  handle  a  press-iron  or  work  a  sewing  machine.  They 
were  much  better  off  than  in  Poland.  He  would  have  been  glad 
of  such  an  income  himself  in  those  terrible  first  days  of  English 
life  when  he  saw  his  wife  and  his  two  babes  starving  before  his 
eyes,  and  was  only  precluded  from  investing  a  casual  twopence 
in  poison  by  ignorance  of  the  English  name  for  anything  deadly. 
And  what  did  he  live  on  now?  The  fowl,  the  pint  of  haricot 
beans,  and  the  haddocks  which  Chayah  purchased  for  the  Sab- 
bath overlapped  into  the  middle  of  next  week,  a  quarter  of  a  pound" 
of  coffee  lasted  the  whole  week,  the  grounds  being  decocted  till 
every  grain  of  virtue  was  extracted.  Black  bread  and  potatoes 
c 


7 


18  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

and  pickled  herrings  made  up  the  bulk  of  the  every-day  diet. 

No,  no  one  could  accuse  Bear  Belcovitch  of  fattening  on  the 

entrails  of  his  employees.     The  furniture  was  of  the  simplest 

and  shabbiest,  —  no  aesthetic  instinct  urged  the  Kosminskis  to 

overpass  the  bare  necessities  of  existence,  except  in  dress.     The 

only  concessions  to  art  were  a  crudely-colored  Mizrach  on  the 

east  wall,  to  indicate  the  direction  towards  which  the  Jew  should 

pray,  and  the  mantelpiece  mirror  which  was  bordered  with  yellow 

scalloped  paper  (to  save  the  gilt)  and  ornamented  at  each  corner 

with  paper  roses  that  bloomed  afresh  every  Passover.     And  yet 

*  Bear  Belcovitch  had  lived  in  much  better  style  in  Poland,  pos- 

,  sessing  a  brass  wash-hand  basin,  a  copper  saucepan,  silver  spoons, 

a  silver  consecration  beaker,  and  a  cupboard  with  glass  doors, 

•and  he  frequently  adverted  to   their  fond   memories.     But   he 

.  brought  nothing  away  except  his  bedding,  and  that  was  pawned 

in  Germany  on  the  route.     When  he  arrived  in  London  he  had 

with  him  three  groschen  and  a  family. 

"  What  do  you  think,  Pesach,''  said  Becky,  as  soon  as  she 
could  get  at  her  prospective  brother-in-law  through  the  barriers 
of  congratulatory  countrymen.  ''The  stuff  that  came  through 
there"  —  she  pointed  to  the  discolored  fragment  of  ceiling  — 
"was  soup.  That  silly  little  Esther  spilt  all  she  got  from  the 
kitchen.'" 

'•'■  Achi  nebbich,  poor  little  thing,''  cried  Mrs.  Kosminski,  who 
was  in  a  tender  mood,  "  very  likely  it  hungers  them  sore  upstairs. 
The  father  is  out  of  work.'' 

"  Knowest  thou  what,  mother,"  put  in  Fanny.  "  Suppose  we 
give  them  our  soup.  Aunt  Leah  has  just  fetched  it  for  us. 
Have  we  not  a  special  supper  to-night  ?  " 

"  But  father?"  murmured  the  little  woman  dubiously. 

"Oh,  he  won't  notice  it.  I  don't  think  he  knows  the  soup 
kitchen  opens  to-night.     Let  me,  mother." 

And  Fanny,  letting  Pesach's  hand  go,  slipped  out  to  the  room 
that  served  as  a  kitchen,  and  bore  the  still-steaming  pot  upstairs. 
Pesach,  who  had  pursued  her,  followed  with  some  hunks  of 
bread  and  a  piece  of  lighted  candle,  which,  while  intended  only 
to  illumine  the  journey,  came  in  handy  at  the  terminus.     And 


THE   SWEATER.  19 

the  festive  company  grinned  and  winked  when  the  pair  dis- 
appeared, and  made  jocular  quotations  from  the  Old  Testament 
and  the  Rabbis.  But  the  lovers  did  not  kiss  when  they  came 
out  of  the  garret  of  the  Ansells ;  their  eyes  were  wet,  and  they 
went  softly  downstairs  hand  in  hand,  feeling  linked  by  a  deeper 
love  than  before. 

Thus  did  Providence  hand  over  the  soup  the  Belcovitches  took 
from  old  habit  to  a  more  necessitous  quarter,  and  demonstrate 
in  double  sense  that  Charity  never  faileth.  Nor  was  this  the 
only  mulct  which  Providence  exacted  from  the  happy  father,  for 
later  on  a  townsman  of  his  appeared  on  the  scene  in  a  long 
capote,  and  with  a  grimy  woe-begone  expression.  He  was  a 
"greener^'  of  the  greenest  order,  having  landed  at  the  docks 
only  a  few  hours  ago,  bringing  over  with  him  a  great  deal  of 
luggage  in  the  shape  of  faith  in  God,  and  in  the  auriferous  char- 
acter of  London  pavements.  On  arriving  in  England,  he  gave  a 
casual  glance  at  the  metropolis  and  demanded  to  be  directed  to 
a  synagogue  wherein  to  shake  himself  after  the  journey.  His 
devotions  over,  he  tracked  out  Mr.  Kosminski,  whose  address 
on  a  much-creased  bit  of  paper  had  been  his  talisman  of  hope 
during  the  voyage.  In  his  native  town,  where  the  Jews  groaned 
beneath  divers  and  sore  oppressions,  the  fame  of  Kosminski,  the 
pioneer,  the  Croesus,  was  a  legend.  Mr.  Kosminski  was  pre- 
pared for  these  contingencies.  He  went  to  his  bedroom,  dragged 
out  a  heavy  wooden  chest  from  under  the  bed,  unlocked  it  and 
plunged  his  hand  into  a  large  dirty  linen  bag,  full  of  coins.  The 
instinct  of  generosity  which  was  upon  him  made  him  count  out 
forty-eight  of  them.  He  bore  them  to  the  ''greener"  in  over- 
brimming palms  and  the  foreigner,  unconscious  how  much  he 
owed  to  the  felicitous  coincidence  of  his  visit  with  Fanny's 
betrothal,  saw  fortune  visibly  within  his  grasp.  He  went  out, 
his  heart  bursting  with  gratitude,  his  pocket  with  four  dozen 
farthings.  They  took  him  in  and  gave  him  hot  soup  at  a  Poor 
Jews'  Shelter,  whither  his  townsman  had  directed  him.  Kos- 
minski returned  to  the  banqueting  room,  thrilling  from  head  to 
foot  with  the  approval  of  his  conscience.  He  patted  Becky's 
curly  head  and  said  :  ' 


20  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

"  Well,  Becky,  when  shall  we  be  dancing  at  your  wedding?" 

Becky  shook  her  curls.  Her  young  men  could  not  have  a 
poorer  opinion  of  one  another  than  Becky  had  of  them  all. 
Their  homage  pleased  her,  though  it  did  not  raise  them  in  her 
esteem.  Lovers  grew  like  blackberries  —  only  more  so;  for 
they  were  an  evergreen  stock.  Or,  as  her  mother  put  it  in  her 
coarse,  peasant  manner,  Chasanim  were  as  plentiful  as  the  street- 
dogs.  Becky's  beaux  sat  on  the  stairs  before  she  was  up  and 
became  early  risers  in  their  love  for  her,  each  anxious  to  be  the 
first  to  bid  their  Penelope  of  the  buttonholes  good  morrow.  It 
was  said  that  Kosminski's  success  as  a  "  sweater  "  was  due  to  his 
beauteous  Becky,  the  flower  of  sartorial  youth  gravitating  to  the 
work-room  of  this  East  London  Laban.  What  they  admired  in 
Becky  was  that  there  was  so  much  of  her.  Still  it  was  not  enough 
to  go  round,  and  though  Becky  might  keep  nine  lovers  in  hand 
without  fear  of  being  set  down  as  a  flirt,  a  larger  number  of  tailors 
would  have  been  less  consistent  with  prospective  monogamy, 

"  Fm  not  going  to  throw  myself  away  like  Fanny,"  said  she 
confidentially  to  Pesach  Weingott  in  the  course  of  the  evening. 
He  smiled  apologetically.  "  Fanny  always  had  low  views,""  con- 
tinued Becky.     "  But  I  always  said  I  would  marry  a  gentleman." 

"And  I  dare  say,"  answered  Pesach,  stung  into  the  retort, 
"  Fanny  could  marry  a  gentlemen,  too,  if  she  wanted." 

Becky's  idea  of  a  gentleman  was  a  clerk  or  a  school-master, 
who  had  no  manual  labor  except  scribbling  or  flogging.  In  her 
matrimonial  views  Becky  was  typical.  She  despised  the  status 
of  her  parents  and  looked  to  marry  out  of  it.  They  for  their  part 
could  not  understand  the  desire  to  be  other  than  themselves. 

"  I  don't  say  Fanny  couldn't,"  she  admitted.  "  All  I  say  is, 
nobody  could  call  this  a  luck-match." 

"  Ah,  thou  hast  me  too  many  flies  in  thy  nose,"  reprovingly 
interposed  Mrs.  Belcovitch,  who  had  just  crawled  up.  "Thou 
art  too  high-class." 

Becky  tossed  her  head.  "  Tve  got  a  new  dolman,"  she  said, 
turning  to  one  of  her  young  men  who  was  present  by  special 
grace.     "You  should  see  me  in  it.     I  look  noble." 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Belcovitch  proudly.     "  It  shines  in  the  sun." 


THE   SWEATER.  21 

"Is  it  like  the  one  Bessie  Sugarman's  got?"  inquired  the 
young  man. 

"  Bessie  Sugarman !  "  echoed  Becky  scornfully.  "  She  gets 
all  her  things  from  the  tallyman.  She  pretends  to  be  so  grand, 
but  all  her  jewelry  is  paid  for  at  so  much  a  week." 

"  So  long  as  it  is  paid  for,"  said  Fanny,  catching  the  words  and 
turning  a  happy  face  on  her  sister. 

"  Not  so  jealous,  Alte,"  said  her  mother.  "  When  I  shall  win 
on  the  lotter^^,  I  will  buy  thee  also  a  dolman." 

Almost  all  the  company  speculated  on  the  Hamburg  lottery, 
which,  whether  they  were  speaking  Yiddish  or  English,  they 
invariably  accentuated  on  the  last  syllable.  When  an  inhabi- 
tant of  the  Ghetto  won  even  his  money  back,  the  news  circulated 
like  wild-fire,  and  there  was  a  rush  to  the  agents  for  tickets. 
The  chances  of  sudden  wealth  floated  like  dazzling  Will  o'  the 
Wisps  on  the  horizon,  illumining  the  gray  perspectives  of  the 
future.  The  lottert'^  took  the  poor  ticket-holders  out  of  them- 
selves, and  gave  them  an  interest  in  life  apart  from  machine- 
cotton,  lasts  or  tobacco-leaf.  The  English  laborer,  who  has 
been  forbidden  State  Lotteries,  relieves  the  monotony  of  exist- 
ence by  an  extremely  indirect  interest  in  the  achievements  of  a 
special  breed  of  horses. 

"  Nii^  Pesach,  another  glass  of  rirni,"  said  Mr.  Belcovitch  ge- 
nially to  his  future  son-in-law  and  boarder. 

"Yes,  I  will,"  said  Pesach.  "  After  all,  this  is  the  first  time 
Pve  got  engaged." 

The  rimi  was  of  Mr.  Belcovitch's  own  manufacture ;  its  ingre- 
dients were  unknown,  but  the  fame  of  it  travelled  on  currents  of 
air  to  the  remotest  parts  of  the  house.  Even  the  inhabitants  of 
the  garrets  sniffed  and  thought  of  turpentine.  Pesach  swallowed 
the  concoction,  murmuring  "To  life"  afresh.  His  throat  felt 
like  the  funnel  of  a  steamer,  and  there  were  tears  in  his  eyes 
when  he  put  down  the  glass. 

"  Ah,  that  was  good,"  he  murmured. 

"Not  like  thy  English  drinks,  eh?"  said  Mr.  Belcovitch. 

"  England!  "  snorted  Pesach  in  royal  disdain.  "  What  a  coun- 
try!    Daddle-doo  is  a  language  and  ginger-beer  a  liquor." 


22  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

"  Daddle  doo  "  was  Pesach's  way  of  saying  "ThatUl  do."  It 
was  one  of  the  first  English  idioms  he  picked  up,  and  its  puerility 
made  him  facetious.  It  seemed  to  smack  of  the  nursery;  when 
a  nation  expressed  its  soul  thus,  the  existence  of  a  beverage  like 
ginger-beer  could  occasion  no  further  surprise. 

"You  shan't  have  anything  stronger  than  ginger-beer  when 
we're  married,"'  said  Fanny  laughingly.  "  I  am  not  going  to 
have  any  drinking." 

"  But  I'll  get  drunk  on  ginger-beer,"  Pesach  laughed  back. 

"You  can't,"  Fanny  said,  shaking  her  large  fond  smile  to  and 
fro.     "  By  my  health,  not." 

"Ha!  Ha!  Ha!  Can't  even  get  shikktir  on  it.  What  a 
liquor!  " 

In  the  first  Anglo-Jewish  circles  with  which  Pesach  had 
scraped  acquaintance,  ginger-beer  was  the  prevalent  drink;  and, 
generalizing  almost  as  hastily  as  if  he  were  going  to  write  a  book 
on  the  country,  he  concluded  that  it  was  the  national  beverage. 
He  had  long  since  discovered  his  mistake,  but  the  drift  of  the 
discussion  reminded  Becky  of  a  chance  for  an  arrow. 

"  On  the  day  when  you  sit  for  joy,  Pesach,"  she  said  slily,  "  I 
shall  send  you  a  valentine." 

Pesach  colored  up  and  those  in  the  secret  laughed ;  the  refer- 
ence was  to  another  of  Pesach's  early  ideas.  Some  mischievous 
gossip  had  heard  him  arguing  with  another  Greener  outside  a 
stationer's  shop  blazing  with  comic  valentines.  The  two  for- 
eigners were  extremely  puzzled  to  understand  what  these  mon- 
strosities portended ;  Pesach,  however,  laid  it  down  that  the  mi- 
crocephalous gentlemen  with  tremendous  legs,  and  the  ladies 
five-sixths  head  and  one-sixth  skirt,  were  representations  of  the 
English  peasants  who  lived  in  the  little  villages  up  country. 

"  When  I  sit  for  joy,"  retorted  Pesach,  "  it  will  not  be  the  sea- 
son for  valentines." 

"Won't  it  though!"  cried  Becky,  shaking  her  frizzly  black 
curls.     "  You'll  be  a  pair  of  comic  "uns." 

"  All  right,  Becky,"  said  Alte  good-humoredly.  "  Your  turn'U 
come,  and  then  we  shall  have  the  laugh  of  you." 

"Never,"  said  Becky.     "What  do  I  want  with  a  man?" 


THE   SWEATER.  23 

The  arm  of  the  specially  invited  young  man  was  round  her  as 
she  spoke. 

"  Don't  make  schiiecks^''  said  Fanny. 

"  Ifs  not  aifectation.  I  mean  it.  What's  the  good  of  the 
men  who  visit  father?      There  isn't  a  gentleman  among  them." 

"  Ah,  wait  till  I  win  on  the  lotter^^/'  said  the  special  young 
man. 

"Then,  vy  not  take  another  eighth  of  a  ticket?"  inquired 
Sugarman  the  Shadcha7i,  who  seemed  to  spring  from  the  other 
end  of  the  room.  He  was  one  of  the  greatest  Talmudists  in 
London  —  a  lean,  hungry-looking  man,  sharp  of  feature  and 
acute  of  intellect.  "Look  at  Mrs.  Robinson  —  Pve  just  won 
her  over  twenty  pounds,  and  she  only  gave  me  two  pounds  for 
myself.     I  call  it  a  cherpah —  a  shame." 

"  Yes,  but  you  stole  another  two  pounds,"  said  Becky. 

"  How  do  you  know  ? "  said  Sugarman  startled. 

Becky  winked  and  shook  her  head  sapiently.  "Never  you 
mind." 

The  published  list  of  the  winning  numbers  was  so  complex  in 
constraction  that  Sugarman  had  ample  opportunities  of  bewil- 
dering his  clients. 

"I  von't  sell  you  no  more  tickets,"  said  Sugarman  with  right- 
eous indignation. 

"A  fat  lot  I  care,"  said  Becky,  tossing  her  curls. 

"Thou  carest  for  nothing,"  said  Mrs.  Belcovitch,  seizing  the 
opportunity  for  maternal  admonition.  "Thou  hast  not  even 
brought  me  my  medicine  to-night.  Thou  wilt  find  it  on  the 
chest  of  drawers  in  the  bedroom." 

Becky  shook  herself  impatiently. 

"  I  will  go,"  said  the  special  young  man. 

"  No,  it  is  not  beautiful  that  a  young  man  shall  go  into  my 
bedroom  in  my  absence,"  said  Mrs.  Belcovitch  blushing. 

Becky  left  the  room. 

"  Thou  knowest,"  said  Mrs.  Belcovitch,  addressing  herself  to 
the  special  young  man,  "  I  suffer  greatly  from  my  legs.  One  is 
a  thick  one,  and  one  a  thin  one." 

The  young  man  sighed  sympathetically. 


24  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

"Whence  comes  it  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Do  I  know  ?  I  was  born  so.  My  poor  lambkin  (this  was 
the  way  Mrs.  Belcovitch  always  referred  to  her  dead  mother) 
had  well-matched  legs.  If  I  had  Aristotle's  head  I  might  be 
able  to  find  out  why  my  legs  are  inferior.  And  so  one  goes 
about." 

The  reverence  for  Aristotle  enshrined  in  Yiddish  idiom  is 
probably  due  to  his  being  taken  by  the  vulgar  for  a  Jew.  At 
any  rate  the  theory  that  Aristotle's  philosophy  was  Jewish  was 
advanced  by  the  mediaeval  poet,  Jehuda  Halevi,  and  sustained 
by  Maimonides.  The  legend  runs  that  when  Alexander  went  to 
Palestine,  Aristotle  w'as  in  his  train.  At  Jerusalem  the  phi- 
losopher had  sight  of  King  Solomon's  manuscripts,  and  he 
forthwith  edited  them  and  put  his  name  to  them.  But  it  is 
noteworthy  that  the  story  was  only  accepted  by  those  Jewish 
scholars  who  adopted  the  Aristotelian  philosophy,  those  who 
rejected  it  declaring  that  Aristotle  in  his  last  testament  had 
admitted  the  inferiority  of  his  writings  to  the  Mosaic,  and  had 
asked  that  his  works  should  be  destroyed. 

When  Becky  returned  with  the  medicine,  Mrs.  Belcovitch 
mentioned  that  it  was  extremely  nasty,  and  offered  the  young 
man  a  taste,  whereat  he  rejoiced  inwardly,  knowing  he  had 
found  favor  in  the  sight  of  the  parent.  Mrs.  Belcovitch  paid  a 
penny  a  week  to  her  doctor,  in  sickness  or  health,  so  that  there 
was  a  loss  on  being  well.  Becky  used  to  fill  up  the  bottles  with 
water  to  save  herself  the  trouble  of  going  to  fetch  the  medicine, 
but  as  Mrs.  Belcovitch  did  not  know  this  it  made  no  difference. 

"  Thou  livest  too  much  indoors,"  said  Mr.  Sugarman,  in  Yid- 
dish. 

"Shall  I  march  about  in  this  weather?  Black  and  slippery, 
and  the  Angel  going  a-hunting?" 

"Ah!"  said  Mr.  Sugarman,  relapsing  proudly  into  the  vernac- 
ular, "  Ve  English  valk  about  in  all  vedders." 

Meanwhile  Moses  Ansell  had  returned  from  evening  service 
and  sat  down,  unquestioningly,  by  the  light  of  an  unexpected 
candle  to  his  expected  supper  of  bread  and  soup,  blessing  God 
for  both  gifts.     The  rest  of  the  family  had  supped.     Esther  had 


THE   SWEATER.  25 

put  the  two  youngest  children  to  bed  (Rachel  had  arrived  at 
years  of  independent  undressing),  and  she  and  Solomon  were 
doing  home-lessons  in  copy-books,  the  candle  saving  them  from 
a  caning  on  the  morrow.  She  held  her  pen  clumsily,  for  several 
of  her  fingers  were  swathed  in  bloody  rags  tied  with  cobweb. 
The  grandmother  dozed  in  her  chair.  Everything  was  quiet  and 
peaceful,  though  the  atmosphere  was  chilly.  Moses  ate  his  sup- 
per with  a  great  smacking  of  the  lips  and  an  equivalent  enjoy- 
ment. When  it  was  over  he  sighed  deeply,  and  thanked  God 
in  a  prayer  lasting  ten  minutes,  and  delivered  in  a  rapid,  sing- 
song manner.  He  then  inquired  of  Solomon  whether  he  had 
said  his  evening  prayer.  Solomon  looked  out  of  the  corner  of 
his  eyes  at  his  Bube,  and,  seeing  she  was  asleep  on  the  bed,  said 
he  had,  and  kicked  Esther  significantly  but  hurtfuUy  under  the 
table 

"  Then  you  had  better  say  your  night-prayer." 

There  was  no  getting  out  of  that ;  so  Solomon  finished  his 
sum,  writing  the  figures  of  the  answer  rather  faint,  in  case  he 
should  discover  from  another  boy  next  morning  that  they  were 
wrong ;  then  producing  a  Hebrew  prayer-book  from  his  inky 
cotton  satchel,  he  made  a  mumbling  sound,  with  occasional 
enthusiastic  bursts  of  audible  coherence,  for  a  length  of  time 
proportioned  to  the  number  of  pages.  Then  he  went  to  bed. 
After  that,  Esther  put  her  grandmother  to  bed  and  curled  her- 
self up  at  her  side.  She  lay  awake  a  long  time,  listening  to  the 
quaint  sounds  emitted  by  her  father  in  his  study  of  Rashi's  com- 
mentary on  the  Book  of  Job,  the  measured  drone  blending  not 
disagreeably  with  the  far-away  sounds  of  Pesach  Weingott's 
fiddle. 

Pesach's  fiddle  played  the  accompaniment  to  many  other 
people's  thoughts.  The  respectable  master-tailor  sat  behind 
his  glazed  shirt-front  beating  time  with  his  foot.  His  little 
sickly-looking  wife  stood  by  his  side,  nodding  her  bewigged 
head  joyously.  To  both  the  music  brought  the  same  recollec- 
tion—  a  Polish  market-place. 

Belcovitch,  or  rather  Kosminski.  was  the  only  surviving  son 
of  a  widow.     It  was  curious,  and  suggestive  of  some  grim  law  of 


26  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

heredity,  that  his  parents'  elder  children  had  died  off  as  rapidly 
as  his  own,  and  that  his  life  had  been  preserved  by  some  such 
expedient  as  Alters.  Only,  in  his  case  the  Rabbi  consulted  had 
advised  his  father  to  go  into  the  woods  and  call  his  new-born  son 
by  the  name  of  the  first  animal  that  he  saw.  This  was  why  the 
future  sweater  was  named  Bear.  To  the  death  of  his  brothers 
and  sisters,  Bear  owed  his  exemption  from  military  service.  He 
grew  up  to  be  a  stalwart,  well-set-up  young  baker,  a  loss  to  the 
Russian  army. 

Bear  went  out  in  the  market-place  one  fine  day  and  saw^  Chayah 
in  maiden  ringlets.  She  was  a  slim,  graceful  little  thing,  with 
nothing  obviously  odd  about  the  legs,  and  was  buying  onions. 
Her  back  was  towards  him,  but  in  another  moment  she  turned 
her  head  and  Bear's.  As  he  caught  the  sparkle  of  her  eye,  he 
felt  that  without  her  life  were  worse  than  the  conscription.  With- 
out delay,  he  made  inquiries  about  the  fair  young  vision,  and  find- 
ing its  respectability  unimpeachable,  he  sent  a  Shadchan  to 
propose  to  her,  and  they  were  affianced  ;  Chayah 's  father  under- 
taking to  give  a  dowry  of  tw^o  hundred  gulden.  Unfortunately, 
he  died  suddenly  in  the  attempt  to  amass  them,  and  Chayah  was 
left  an  orphan.  The  two  hundred  gulden  were  nowhere  to  be 
found.  Tears  rained  down  both  Chayah's  cheeks,  on  the  one 
side  for  the  loss  of  her  father,  on  the  other  for  the  prospective 
loss  of  a  husband.  The  Rabbi  was  full  of  tender  sympathy. 
He  bade  Bear  come  to  the  dead  man's  chamber.  The  venerable 
white-bearded  corpse  lay  on  the  bed,  swathed  in  shroud,  and 
Talith  or  praying-shawl. 

"  Bear,"  he  said,  ''  thou  knowest  that  I  saved  thy  life." 

"Nay,"  said  Bear,  "indeed,  I  know  not  that." 

"Yea,  of  a  surety,"  said  the  Rabbi.  "Thy  mother  hath  not 
told  thee,  but  all  thy  brothers  and  sisters  perished,  and,  lo  !  thou 
alone  art  preserved  !     It  was  I  that  called  thee  a  beast." 

Bear  bowed  his  head  in  grateful  silence. 

"  Bear,"  said  the  Rabbi,  "  thou  didst  contract  to  wed  this  dead 
man's  daughter,  and  he  did  contract  to  pay  over  to  thee  two 
hundred  gulden." 

"  Truth,"  replied  Bear. 


THE   SWEATER.  27 

"  Bear,"  said  the  Rabbi,  "  there  are  no  two  hundred  gulden." 

A  shadow  flitted  across  Beard's  face,  but  he  said  nothing. 

"  Bear,"  said  the  Rabbi  again,  "there  are  not  two  gulden." 

Bear  did  not  move. 

"  Bear,"  said  the  Rabbi,  "-  leave  thou  my  side,  and  go  over  to 
the  other  side  of  the  bed,  facing  me." 

So  Bear  left  his  side  and  went  over  to  the  other  side  of  the 
bed  facing  him. 

"  Bear,"  said  the  Rabbi,  "  give  me  thy  right  hand." 

The  Rabbi  stretched  his  own  right  hand  across  the  bed,  but 
Bear  kept  his  obstinately  behind  his  back. 

'^  Bear,"  repeated  the  Rabbi,  in  tones  of  more  penetrating 
solemnity,  "give  me  thy  right  hand." 

"  Nay,"  replied  Bear,  sullenly.  "  Wherefore  should  I  give 
thee  my  right  hand  ? " 

"■  Because,"  said  the  Rabbi,  and  his  tones  trembled,  and  it 
seemed  to  him  that  the  dead  man's  face  grew  sterner.  '*•  Because 
I  wish  thee  to  swear  across  the  body  of  Chayah's  father  that  thou 
wilt  marry  her." 

"  Nay,  that  I  will  not,"  said  Bear. 

"  Will  not  ? "  repeated  the  Rabbi,  his  lips  growing  white 
with  pity. 

"  Nay,  I  will  not  take  any  oaths,"  said  Bear,  hotly.  "  I  love 
the  maiden,  and  I  will  keep  what  I  have  promised.  But,  by 
my  father's  soul,  I  will  take  no  oaths!" 

"  Bear,"  said  the  Rabbi  in  a  choking  voice,  "  give  me  thy 
hand.  Nay,  not  to  swear  by,  but  to  grip.  Long  shalt  thou 
live,  and  the  Most  High  shall  prepare  thy  seat  in  Gan  Iden." 

So  the  old  man  and  the  young  clasped  hands  across  the 
corpse,  and  the  simple  old  Rabbi  perceived  a  smile  flickering 
over  the  face  of  Chayah's  father.  Perhaps  it  was  only  a  sud- 
den glint  of  sunshine. 

The  wedding-day  drew  nigh,  but  lo!  Chayah  was  again  dis- 
solved in  tears. 

"What  ails  thee?"  said  her  brother  Naphtali. 

"  I  cannot  follow  the  custom  of  the  maidens,"  wept  Chayah. 
"■  Thou  knowest  we  are  blood-poor,  and  I  have  not  the  where- 


28  CHILDREN  OF  THE    GHETTO. 

withal  to  buy  my  Bear  a  Talith  for  his  wedding-day ;  nay, 
not  even  to  make  him  a  Talitk-h2Lg.  And  when  our  father 
(the  memory  of  the  righteous  for  a  blessing)  was  alive,  I  had 
dreamed  of  making  my  chosan  a  beautiful  velvet  satchel  lined  with 
silk,  and  I  would  have  embroidered  his  initials  thereon  in  gold, 
and  sewn  him  beautiful  white  corpse-clothes.  Perchance  he 
will  rely  upon  me  for  his  wedding  Talith,  and  we  shall  be 
shamed  in  the  sight  of  the  congregation.'" 

"  Nay,  dry  thine  eyes,  my  sister,"  said  Naphtali.  "  Thou 
knowest  that  my  Leah  presented  me  with  a  costly  Talith  when 
I  led  her  under  the  canopy.  Wherefore,  do  thou  take  my 
praying-shawl  and  lend  it  to  Bear  for  the  wedding-day,  so  that 
decency  may  be  preserved  in  the  sight  of  the  congregation. 
The  young  man  has  a  great  heart,  and  he  will  understand,'" 

So  Chayah,  blushing  prettily,  lent  Bear  Naphtali^s  delicate 
Talith,  and  Beauty  and  the  Beast  made  a  rare  couple  under 
the  wedding  canopy.  Chayah  wore  the  gold  medallion  and  the 
three  rows  of  pearls  which  her  lover  had  sent  her  the  day 
before.  And  when  the  Rabbi  had  finished  blessing  husband  and 
wife,  Naphtali  spake  the  bridegroom  privily,  and  said : 

"Pass  me  my  Talith  back.''' 

But  Bear  answered :  "  Nay,  nay ;  the  Talith  is  in  my  keep- 
ing, and  there  it  shall  remain.'" 

"  But  it  is  my  Talith,^''  protested  Naphtali  in  an  angry  whis- 
per.    "  I  only  lent  it  to  Chayah  to  lend  it  thee.'" 

"  It  concerns  me  not,"  Bear  returned  in  a  decisive  whisper. 
"The  Talith  is  my  due  and  I  shall  keep  it.  What!  Have  I  not 
lost  enough  by  marrying  thy  sister?  Did  not  thy  father,  peace 
be  upon  him,  promise  me  two  hundred  gulden  with  her?  " 

Naphtali  retired  discomfited.  But  he  made  up  his  mind  not 
to  go  without  some  compensation.  He  resolved  that  during  the 
progress  of  the  wedding  procession  conducting  the  bridegroom 
to  the  chamber  of  the  bride,  he  would  be  the  man  to  snatch 
off  Bear's  new  hat.  Let  the  rest  of  the  riotous  escort  essay  to 
snatch  whatever  other  article  of  the  bridegroom's  attire  they 
would,  the  hat  was  the  easiest  to  dislodge,  and  he,  Naphtali, 
would  straightway  reimburse  himself  partially  with   that.     But 


THE   SWEATER.  29 

the  instant  the  procession  formed  itself,  behold  the  shifty  bride- 
groom forthwith  removed  his  hat,  and  held  it  tightly  under  his 
arm. 

A  storm  of  protestations  burst  forth  at  his  daring  departure 
from  hymeneal  tradition. 

''Nay,  nay,  put  it  on,"  arose  from  every  mouth. 

But  Bear  closed  his  and  marched  mutely  on. 

"  Heathen,"  cried  the  Rabbi.     "  Put  on  your  hat." 

The  attempt  to  enforce  the  religious  sanction  failed  too. 
Bear  had  spent  several  gulden  upon  his  head-gear,  and  could 
not  see  the  joke.  He  plodded  towards  his  blushing  Chayah 
through  a  tempest  of  disapprobation. 

Throughout  life  Bear  Belcovitch  retained  the  contrariety  of 
character  that  marked  his  matrimonial  beginnings.  He  hated 
to  part  with  money  ;  he  put  off  paying  bills  to  the  last  moment, 
and  he  would  even  beseech  his  "'  hands  "  to  wait  a  day  or  two 
longer  for  their  wages.  He  liked  to  feel  that  he  had  all  that 
money  in  his  possession.  Yet  "at  home,"  in  Poland,  he  had 
always  lent  money  to  the  officers  and  gentry,  when  they  ran 
temporarily  short  at  cards.  They  would  knock  him  up  in  the 
middle  of  the  night  to  obtain  the  means  of  going  on  with  the 
game.  And  in  England  he  never  refused  to  become  surety  for 
a  loan  when  any  of  his  poor  friends  begged  the  favor  of  him. 
These  loans  ran  from  three  to  five  pounds,  but  whatever  the 
amount,  they  were  very  rarely  paid.  The  loan  offices  came 
down  upon  him  for  the  money.  He  paid  it  without  a  murmur, 
shaking  his  head  compassionately  over  the  poor  ne'er  do  wells, 
and  perhaps  not  without  a  compensating  consciousness  of  superior 
practicality. 

Only,  if  the  borrower  had  neglected  to  treat  him  to  a  glass 
of  rum  to  clench  his  signing  as  surety,  the  shake  of  Bear's  head 
would  become  more  reproachful  than  sympathetic,  and  he  would 
mutter  bitterly :  "  Five  pounds  and  not  even  a  drink  for  the 
money."  The  jewelry  he  generously  lavished  on  his  woman- 
kind was  in  essence  a  mere  channel  of  investment  for  his  sav- 
ings, avoiding  the  risks  of  a  banking-account  and  aggregating 
his  wealth  in  a  portable  shape,  in  obedience  to  an  instinct  gen- 


30  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

erated  by  centuries  of  insecurity.  The  interest  on  the  sums 
thus  invested  was  the  gratification  of  the  other  oriental  instinct 
for  gaudiness. 

CHAPTER   III. 

MALKA. 

The  Sunday  Fair,  so  long  associated  with  Petticoat  Lane,  is 
dying  hard,  and  is  still  vigorous  ;  its  glories  were  in  full  swing 
on  the  dull,  gray  morning  when  Moses  Ansell  took  his  way 
through  the  Ghetto.  It  was  near  eleven  o'clock,  and  the  throng 
was  thickening  momently.  The  vendors  cried  their  wares  in 
stentorian  tones,  and  the  babble  of  the  buyers  was  like  the  con- 
fused roar  of  a  stormy  sea.  The  dead  walls  and  hoardings  were 
placarded  with  bills  from  w^hich  the  life  of  the  inhabitants  could 
be  constructed.  Many  were  in  Yiddish,  the  most  hopelessly 
corrupt  and  hybrid  jargon  ever  evolved.  Even  when  the  lan- 
guage w^as  English  the  letters  were  Hebrew.  Whitechapel, 
Public  Meeting,  Board  School,  Sermon,  Police,  and  other  mod- 
ern banalities,  glared  at  the  passer-by  in  the  sacred  guise  of  the 
Tongue  associated  with  miracles  and  prophecies,  palm-trees  and 
cedars  and  seraphs,  lions  and  shepherds  and  harpists. 

Moses  stopped  to  read  these  hybrid  posters  —  he  had  nothing 
better  to  do  —  as  he  slouched  along.  He  did  not  care  to  re- 
member that  dinner  was  due  in  two  hours.  He  turned  aim- 
lessly into  Wentworth  Street,  and  studied  a  placard  that  hung  in 
a  bootmaker's  window.     This  was  the  announcement  it  made  in 

jargon : 

Riveters,  Clickers,  Lasters,  Finishers, 

Wanted. 

Baruch  Emanuel, 

Cobbler. 

Makes  and  Repairs  Boots. 

Every  Bit  as  Cheaply 

as 

MORDECAI    SCHWARTZ, 

of  12  Goulston  Street. 


MALKA.  31 

Mordecai  Schwartz  was  written  in  the  biggest  and  blackest 
of  Hebrew  letters,  and  quite  dominated  the  little  shop-window. 
Baruch  Emanuel  was  visibly  conscious  of  his  inferiority  to  his 
powerful  rival,  though  Moses  had  never  heard  of  Mordecai 
Schwartz  before.  He  entered  the  shop  and  said  in  Hebrew 
"  Peace  be  to  you."  Bai"uch  Emanuel,  hammering  a  sole,  an- 
swered in  Hebrew : 

"  Peace  be  to  you." 

Moses  dropped  into  Yiddish. 

^'I  am  looking  for  work.  Peradventure  have  you  something 
for  me  ? " 

"  What  can  you  do  ?  " 

"  I  have  been  a  riveter." 

"I  cannot  engage  any  more  riveters." 

Moses  looked  disappointed. 

"  I  have  also  been  a  clicker,"  he  said. 

"I  have  all  the  clickers  I  can  afford,"  Baruch  answered. 

Moses's  gloom  deepened.  "  Two  years  ago  I  worked  as  a 
finisher." 

Bamch  shook  his  head  silently.  He  was  annoyed  at  the 
man's  persistence.     There  was  only  the  laster  resource  left. 

"  And  before  that  I  was  a  laster  for  a  week,"  Moses  answered. 

"  1  don't  want  any!  "  cried  Baruch,  losing  his  temper. 

"  But  in  your  window  it  stands  that  you  do,"  protested  Moses 
feebly. 

"  I  don't  care  what  stands  in  my  window,"  said  Baruch  hotly. 
"  Have  you  not  head  enough  to  see  that  that  is  all  bunkum  ? 
Unfortunately  I  work  single-handed,  but  it  looks  good  and  it 
isn't  lies.  Naturally  I  want  Riveters  and  Clickers  and  Lasters 
and  Finishers.  Then  I  could  set  up  a  big  establishment  and 
gouge  out  Mordecai  Schw^artz's  eyes.  But  the  Most  High  denies 
me  assistants,  and  I  am  content  to  want." 

Moses  understood  that  attitude  towards  the  nature  of  things. 
He  went  out  and  wandered  down  another  narrow  dirty  street  in 
search  of  Mordecai  Schwartz,  whose  address  Baruch  Emanuel 
had  so  obligingly  given  him.  He  thought  of  the  Maggid's  ser- 
mon on  the  day  before.     The  Maggid  had  explained  a  verse  of 


32  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

Habakkuk  in  quite  an  original  way  which  gave  an  entirely  new 
color  to  a  passage  in  Deuteronomy.  Moses  experienced  acute 
pleasure  in  musing  upon  it,  and  went  past  Mordecai's  shop  with- 
out going  in,  and  was  only  awakened  from  his  day-dream  by  the 
brazen  clanging  of  a  bell.  It  was  the  bell  of  the  great  Ghetto 
school,  summoning  its  pupils  from  the  reeking  courts  and  alleys, 
from  the  garrets  and  the  cellars,  calling  them  to  come  and  be 
Anglicized.  And  they  came  in  a  great  straggling  procession 
recruited  from  every  lane  and  by-way,  big  children  and  little 
children,  boys  in  blackening  corduroy,  and  girls  in  washed-out 
cotton ;  tidy  children  and  ragged  children ;  children  in  great 
shapeless  boots  gaping  at  the  toes ;  sickly  children,  and  sturdy 
children,  and  diseased  children ;  bright-eyed  children  and  hol- 
low-eyed children  ;  quaint  sallow  foreign-looking  children,  and 
fresh-colored  English-looking  children ;  with  great  pumpkin 
heads,  with  oval  heads,  with  pear-shaped  heads ;  with  old  men's 
faces,  with  cherubs'  faces,  with  monkeys'  faces ;  cold  and  fam- 
ished children,  and  warm  and  well-fed  children  ;  children  con- 
ning their  lessons  and  children  romping  carelessly ;  the  demure 
and  the  anaemic ;  the  boisterous  and  the  blackguardly,  the  inso- 
lent, the  idiotic,  the  vicious,  the  intelligent,  the  exemplary,  the 
dull  —  spawn  of  all  countries  —  all  hastening  at  the  inexorable 
clang  of  the  big  school-bell  to  be  ground  iil  the  same  great, 
blind,  inexorable  Governmental  machine.  Here,  too,  was  a 
miniature  fair,  the  path  being  lined  by  itinerant  temptations. 
There  was  brisk  traffic  in  toffy,  and  gray  peas  and  monkey-nuts, 
and  the  crowd  was  swollen  by  anxious  parents  seeing  tiny  or 
truant  offspring  safe  within  the  school-gates.  The  women  were 
bare-headed  or  be-shawled,  with  infants  at  their  breasts  and  little 
ones  toddling  at  their  sides,  the  men  were  greasy,  and  musty, 
and  squalid.  Here  a  bright  earnest  little  girl  held  her  vagrant 
big  brother  by  the  hand,  not  to  let  go  till  she  had  seen  him  in 
the  bosom  of  his  class-mates.  There  a  sullen  wild-eyed  mite 
in  petticoats  was  being  dragged  along,  screaming,  towards  dis- 
tasteful durance.  It  was  a  drab  picture  —  the  bleak,  leaden  sky 
above,  the  sloppy,  miry  stones  below,  the  frowsy  mothers  and 
fathers,  the  motley  children. 


MALKA.  33 

''Monkey-nuts!  Monkey-nuts!  "  croaked  a  wizened  old  woman. 

"Oppea!  Oppea!"  droned  a  doddering  old  Dutchman.  He 
bore  a  great  can  of  hot  peas  in  one  hand  and  a  lighthouse-look- 
ing pepper-pot  in  the  other.  Some  of  the  children  swallowed 
the  dainties  hastily  out  of  miniature  basins,  others  carried  them 
within  in  paper  packets  for  surreptitious  munching. 

"  Call  that  a  ay-puth  ?  '^  a  small  boy  would  say. 

"Not  enough!"  the  old  man  would  exclaim  in  surprise. 
"Here  you  are,  then!"  And  he  would  give  the  peas  another 
sprinkling  from  the  pepper-pot. 

Moses  Ansell's  progeny  were  not  in  the  picture.  The  younger 
children  were  at  home,  the  elder  had  gone  to  school  an  hour 
before  to  run  about  and  get  warm  in  the  spacious  playgrounds. 
A  slice  of  bread  each  and  the  wish-wash  of  a  thrice-brewed 
pennyworth  of  tea  had  been  their  morning  meal,  and  there  was 
no  prospect  of  dinner.  The  thought  of  them  made  Moses's 
heart  heavy  again;  he  forgot  the  Maggid^s  explanation  of  the 
verse  in  Habakkuk,  and  he  retraced  his  steps  towards  Mordecai 
Schwartz's  shop.  But  like  his  humbler  rival,  Mordecai  had  no 
use  for  the  many-sided  Moses ;  he  was  "  full  up  "  with  swarthy 
"  hands,"  though,  as  there  were  rumors  of  strikes  in  the  air,  he 
prudently  took  note  of  Moses's  address.  After  this  rebuff, 
Moses  shuffled  hopelessly  about  for  more  than  an  hour;  the 
dinner-hour  was  getting  desperately  near ;  already  children 
passed  him,  carrying  the  Sunday  dinners  from  the  bakeries,  and 
there  were  wafts  of  vague  poetry  in  the  atmosphere.  Moses  felt 
he  could  not  face  his  own  children. 

At  last  he  nerved  himself  to  an  audacious  resolution,  and 
elbowed  his  way  blusterously  towards  the  Ruins,  lest  he  might 
break  down  if  his  courage  had  time  to  cool. 

"  The  Ruins  "  was  a  great  stony  square,  partly  bordered  by 
houses,  and  only  picturesque  on  Sundays  when  it  became  a 
branch  of  the  all-ramifying  Fair.  Moses  could  have  bought 
anything  there  from  elastic  braces  to  green  parrots  in  gilt  cages. 
That  is  to  say  if  he  had  had  money.  At  present  he  had  noth- 
ing in  his  pocket  except  holes. 

What  he  might  be  able  to  do  on  his  way  back  was  another 

D 


34  CHILDREN   OF  THE    GHETTO. 

matter ;  for  it  was  Malka  that  Moses  Ansell  was  going  to  see. 
She  was  the  cousin  of  his  deceased  wife,  and  Uved  in  Zachariah 
Square.  Moses  had  not  been  there  for  a  month,  for  Malka  was 
a  wealthy  twig  of  the  family  tree,  to  be  approached  with  awe  and 
trembling.  She  kept  a  .second-hand  clothes  store  in  Hounds- 
ditch,  a  supplementary  stall  in  the  Halfpenny  Exchange,  and 
a  barrow  on  the  "Ruins'"  of  a  Sunday;  and  she  had  set  up 
Ephraim,  her  newly-acquired  son-in-law,  in  the  same  line  of 
business  in  the  same  district.  Like  most  things  she  dealt  in, 
her  son-in-law  was  second-hand,  having  lost  his  first  wife  four 
years  ago  in  Poland.  But  he  was  only  twenty-two,  and  a  second- 
hand son-in-law  of  twenty-two  is  superior  to  many  brand  new 
ones.  The  two  domestic  establishments  were  a  few  minutes 
away  from  the  shops,  facing  each  other  diagonally  across  the 
square.  They  were  small,  three-roomed  houses,  without  base- 
ments, the  ground  floor  window  in  each  being  filled  up  with 
a  black  gauze  blind  (an  invariable  index  of  gentility)  which 
allowed  the  occupants  to  see  all  that  was  passing  outside,  but 
confronted  gazers  with  their  own  reflections.  Passers-by  post- 
ured at  these  mirrors,  twisting  moustaches  perkily,  or  giving 
coquettish  pats  to  bonnets,  unwitting  of  the  grinning  inhabi- 
tants. Most  of  the  doors  were  ajar,  wintry  as  the  air  was ;  for 
the  Zachariah  Squareites  lived  a  good  deal  on  the  door-step. 
In  the  summer,  the  housewives  sat  outside  on  chairs  and  gos- 
siped and  knitted,  as  if  the  sea  foamed  at  their  feet,  and 
wrinkled  good-humored  old  men  played  nap  on  tea-trays. 
Some  of  the  doors  were  blocked  below  with  sliding  barriers  of 
wood,  a  sure  token  of  infants  inside  given  to  straying.  More 
obvious  tokens  of  child-life  w'ere  the  swings  nailed  to  the  lintels 
of  a  few  doors,  in  which,  despite  the  cold,  toothless  babes 
swayed  like  monkeys  on  a  branch.  But  the  Square,  with  its 
broad  area  of  quadrangular  pavement,  was  an  ideal  playing- 
ground  for  children,  since  other  animals  came  not  within  its 
precincts,  except  an  inquisitive  dog  or  a  local  cat.  Solomon 
Ansell  knew  no  greater  privilege  than  to  accompany  his  father 
to  these  fashionable  quarters  and  whip  his  humming-top  across 
the  ample  spaces,  the  while  Moses  transacted  his  business  with 


MALKA.  35 

Malka.  Last  time  the  business  was  psalm-saying.  Milly  had 
beein  brought  to  bed  of  a  son,  but  it  was  doubtful  if  she  would 
survive,  despite  the  charms  hung  upon  the  bedpost  to  counter- 
act the  nefarious  designs  of  Lilith,  the  wicked  first  wife  of  Adam, 
and  of  the  Not-Good  Ones  who  hover  about  women  in  child- 
birth. So  Moses  was  sent  for,  post-haste,  to  intercede  with  the 
Almighty.  His  piety,  it  was  felt,  would  command  attention.  For 
an  average  of  three  hundred  and  sixty-two  days  a  year  Moses 
was  a  miserable  worm,  a  nonentity,  but  on  the  other  three,  when 
death  threatened  to  visit  Malka  or  her  little  clan,  Moses  became 
a  personage  of  prime  importance,  and  was  summoned  at  all 
hours  of  the  day  and  night  to  wrestle  with  the  angel  Azrael. 
When  the  angel  had  retired,  worsted,  after  a  match  sometimes 
protracted  into  days,  Moses  relapsed  into  his  primitive  insignifi- 
cance, and  was  dismissed  with  a  mouthful  of  rum  and  a  shilling. 
It  never  seemed  to  him  an  unfair  equivalent,  for  nobody  could 
make  less  demand  on  the  universe  than  Moses.  Give  him  two 
solid  meals  and  three  solid  services  a  day,  and  he  was  satisfied, 
and  he  craved  more  for  spiritual  snacks  between  meals  than  for 
physical. 

The  last  crisis  had  been  brief,  and  there  was  so  little  danofer 
that,  when  Milly's  child  was  circumcised,  Moses  had  not  even 
been  bidden  to  the  feast,  though  his  piety  would  have  made  him 
the  ideal  saiidek  or  god-father.  He  did  not  resent  this,  knowing 
himself  dust  —  and  that  anything  but  gold-dust. 

Moses  had  hardly  emerged  from  the  little  arched  passage 
which  led  to  the  Square,  when  sounds  of  strife  fell  upon  his  ears. 
Two  stout  women  chatting  amicably  at  their  doors,  had  suddenly 
developed  a  dispute.  In  Zachariah  Square,  when  you  wanted  to 
get  to  the  bottom  of  a  quarrel,  the  cue  was  not  "  find  the  woman," 
but  find  the  child.  The  high-spirited  bantlings  had  a  way  of 
pummelling  one  another  in  fistic  duels,  and  of  calling  in  their  re- 
spective mothers  when  they  got  the  worse  of  it  —  which  is  cow- 
ardly, but  human.  The  mother  of  the  beaten  belligerent  would 
then  threaten  to  wring  the  "year,""  or  to  twist  the  nose  of  the  vic- 
torious party  —  sometimes  she  did  it.  In  either  case,  the  other 
mother  would  intervene,  and  then  the  two  bantlings  would  re- 


36  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

tire  into  the  background  and  leave  their  mothers  to  take  up  the 
duel  while  they  resumed  their  interrupted  game. 

Of  such  sort  was  the  squabble  betwixt  Mrs.  Isaacs  and  Mrs. 
Jacobs.  Mrs.  Isaacs  pointed  out  with  superfluous  vehemence 
that  her  poor  lamb  had  been  mangled  beyond  recognition.  Mrs. 
Jacobs,  per  contra^  asseverated  with  superfluous  gesture  that  it 
was  her  poor  lamb  who  had  received  irreparable  injury.  These 
statements  were  not  in  mutual  contradiction,  but  Mrs.  Isaacs  and 
Mrs.  Jacobs  were,  and  so  the  point  at  issue  was  gradually  ab- 
sorbed in  more  personal  recriminations. 

"  By  my  life,  and  by  my  Fanny's  life.  Til  leave  my  seal  on  the 
first  child  of  yours  that  comes  across  my  way!  There!''  Thus 
Mrs.  Isaacs. 

"  Lay  a  finger  on  a  hair  of  a  child  of  mine,  and,  by  my  hus- 
band's life,  I'll  summons  you  ;  I'll  have  the  law  on  you."  Thus 
Mrs.  Jacobs;  to  the  gratification  of  the  resident  populace. 

Mrs.  Isaacs  and  Mrs.  Jacobs  rarely  quarrelled  with  eacli  other, 
uniting  rather  in  opposition  to  the  rest  of  the  Square.  They 
were  English,  quite  English,  their  grandf^ither  having  been  born 
in  Dresden ;  and  they  gave  themselves  airs  in  consequence,  and 
called  their  kinder  '"  children,"  which  annoyed  those  neighbors 
who  found  a  larger  admixture  of  Yiddish  necessary  for  conversa- 
tion. These  very  kinder^  ^g'^i'"*?  attained  considerable  impor- 
tance among  their  school-fellows  by  refusing  to  pronounce  the 
guttural  "  ch  ''  of  the  Hebrew  otherwise  than  as  an  English  ''k." 

"  Summons  me,  indeed,"  laughed  back  Mrs.  Isaacs.  '•  A  fat  lot 
I'd  care  for  that.  You'd  jolly  soon  expose  your  character  to  the 
magistrate.     Everybody  knows  \\\\dL\  you  are." 

"  Your  mother!  "  retorted  Mrs.  Jacobs  mechanically  ;  the  ellip- 
tical method  of  expression  being  greatly  in  vogue  for  conversation 
of  a  loud  character.     Quick  as  lightning  came  the  parrying  stroke. 

"Yah!     And  what  was  your  father,  I  should  like  to  know?" 

Mrs.  Isaacs  had  no  sooner  made  this  inquiry  than  she  became 
conscious  of  an  environment  of  suppressed  laughter ;  Mrs.  Jacobs 
awoke  to  the  situation  a  second  later,  and  the  two  women  stood 
suddenly  dumbfounded,  petrified,  with  arms  akimbo,  staring  at 
each  other. 


MALKA.  37 

The  wise,  if  apocryphal,  Ecclesiasticus,  sagely  and  pithily  re- 
marked, many  centuries  before  modern  civilization  was  invented: 
Jest  not  with  a  rude  man  lest  thy  ancestors  be  disgraced.  To 
this  day  the  oriental  methods  of  insult-  have  survived  in  the 
Ghetto.  The  dead  past  is  never  allowed  to  bury  its  dead;  the 
genealogical  dust-heap  is  always  liable  to  be  raked  up,  and  even 
innocuous  ancestors  may  be  traduced  to  the  third  and  fourth  gen- 
eration. 

Now  it  so  happened  that  Mrs.  Isaacs  and  Mrs.  Jacobs  were 
sisters.  And  when  it  dawned  upon  them  into  what  dilemma 
their  automatic  methods  of  carte  and  tierce  had  inveigled  them, 
they  were  frozen  with  confusion.  They  retired  crestfallen  to 
their  respective  parlors,  and  sported  their  oaks.  The  resources 
of  repartee  were  dried  up  for  the  moment.  Relatives  are  unduly 
handicapped  in  these  verbal  duels  ;  especially  relatives  with  the 
same  mother  and  father. 

Presently  Mrs.  Isaacs  reappeared.  She  had  thought  of  some- 
thing she  ought  to  have  said.  She  went  up  to  her  sister's  closed 
door,  and  shouted  into  the  key-hole  :  ''  None  of  my  children  ever 
had  bandy-legs ! '' 

Almost  immediately  the  window  of  the  front  bedroom  was 
flung  up,  and  Mrs.  Jacobs  leant  out  of  it  waving  what  looked  like 
an  immense  streamer. 

"Aha,'' she  observed,  dangling  it  tantalizingly  up  and  down. 
"  Morry  antique  !  " 

The  dress  fluttered  in  the  breeze.  Mrs.  Jacobs  caressed  the 
stuff"  between  her  thumb  and  forefinger. 

"  Aw-aw-aw-aw-aw-awl  silk,"  she  announced  with  a  long 
ecstatic  quaver. 

Mrs.  Isaacs  stood  paralyzed  by  the  brilliancy  of  the  repartee. 

Mrs.  Jacobs  withdrew  the  moire  antique  and  exhibited  a  mauve 
gown. 

"  Aw-aw-aw-aw-aw-awl  silk."" 

The  mauve  fluttered  for  a  triumphant  instant,  the  next  a  puce 
and  amber  dress  floated  on  the  breeze. 

"Aw-aw-aw-aw-aw-awl  silk."  Mrs.  Jacobs's  fingers  smoothed 
it  lovingly,  then  it  was  drawn  within  to  be  instantly  replaced  by 


38  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

a  green  dress.  Mrs.  Jacobs  passed  the  skirt  slowly  through  her 
fingers.     "  Aw-aw-aw-aw-aw-awl  silk  !  "  she  quavered  mockingly. 

By  this  time  Mrs.  Isaacs's  face  was  the  color  of  the  latest  flag 
of  victory. 

"  The  tallyman ! "  she  tried  to  retort,  but  the  words  stuck  in 
her  throat.  Fortunately  just  then  she  caught  sight  of  her  poor 
lamb  playing  with  the  other  poor  lamb.  She  dashed  at  her  oif- 
spring,  boxed  its  ears  and  crying,  '•  You  little  blackguard,  if  I 
ever  catch  you  playing  with  blackguards  again,  Til  wring  your 
neck  for  you/'  she  hustled  the  infant  into  the  house  and  slammed 
the  door  viciously  behind  her. 

Moses  had  welcomed  this  every-day  scene,  for  it  put  off  a  few 
moments  his  encounter  with  the  formidable  Malka.  As  she  had 
not  appeared  at  door  or  window,  he  concluded  she  was  in  a  bad 
temper  or  out  of  London  ;  neither  alternative  was  pleasant. 

He  knocked  at  the  door  of  Milly's  house  where  her  mother 
was  generally  to  be  found,  and  an  elderly  char-woman  opened 
it.  There  were  some  bottles  of  spirit,  standing  on  a  wooden 
side-table  covered  with  a  colored  cloth,  and  some  unopened  bis- 
cuit bags.  At  these  familiar  premonitory  signs  of  a  festival, 
Moses  felt  tempted  to  beat  a  retreat.  He  could  not  think  for  the 
moment  what  was  up,  but  whatever  it  was  he  had  no  doubt  the 
well-to-do  persons  would  supply  him  with  ice.  The  char-woman, 
with  brow  darkened  by  soot  and  gloom,  told  him  that  Milly  was 
upstairs,  but  that  her  mother  had  gone  across  to  her  own  house 
with  the  clothes-brush. 

Moses's  face  fell.  When  his  wife  was  alive,  she  had  been  a 
link  of  connection  between  '^'  The  Family "  and  himself,  her 
cousin  having  generously  employed  her  as  a  char-woman.  So 
Moses  knew  the  import  of  the  clothes-brush.  Malka  was  very 
particular  about  her  appearance  and  loved  to  be  externally 
speckless,  but  somehow  or  other  she  had  no  clothes-brush  at 
home.  This  deficiency  did  not  matter  ordinarily,  for  she 
practically  lived  at  Milly's.  But  when  she  had  words  with 
Milly  or  her  husband,  she  retired  to  her  own  house  to  sulk  or 
schmull,  as  they  called  it.  The  carrying  away  of  the  clothes- 
brush  was,  thus,  a  sign  that  she  considered  the  breach  serious 


MALKA.  39 

and  hostilities  likely  to  be  protracted.  Sometimes  a  whole 
week  would  go  by  without  the  two  bouses  ceasing  to  stare  sul- 
lenly across  at  each  other,  the  situation  in  Milly's  camp  being 
aggravated  by  the  lack  of  a  clothes-brush.-  In  such  moments  of 
irritation,  Milly's  husband  was  apt  to  declare  that  his  mother- 
in-law  had  abundance  of  clothes-brushes,  for,  he  pertinently 
asked,  how  did  she  manage  during  her  frequent  business  tours 
in  the  country?  He  gave  it  as  his  conviction  that  Malka  merely 
took  the  clothes-brush  away  to  afford  herself  a  handle  for  return- 
ing. But  then  Ephraim  Phillips  was  a  graceless  young  fellow, 
the  death  of  whose  first  wife  was  probably  a  judgment  on  his 
levity,  and  everybody  except  his  second  mother-in-law  knew  that 
he  had  a  book  of  tickets  for  the  Oxbridge  Music  Hall,  and  went 
there  on  Friday  nights.  Still,  in  spite  of  these  facts,  experience 
did  show  that  whenever  Milly's  camp  had  outsulked  Malka's, 
the  old  woman's  surrender  was  always  veiled  under  the  formula 
of  :  "  Oh  Milly,  I've  brought  you  over  your  clothes-bmsh.  I 
just  noticed  it,  and  thought  you  might  be  wanting  it."  After 
this,  conversation  was  comparatively  easy, 

Moses  hardly  cared  to  face  Malka  in  such  a  crisis  of  the 
clothes-brush.  He  turned  away  despairingly,  and  was  going 
back  through  the  small  archway  which  led  to  the  Ruins  and  the 
outside  world,  when  a  grating  voice  startled  his  ear. 

"  Well,  Meshe,  whither  fliest  thou?  Has  my  Milly  forbidden 
thee  to  see  me  ? " 

He  looked  back.  Malka  was  standing  at  her  house-door.  He 
retraced  his  steps. 

"  N-n-o,"  he  murmured.  "  I  thought  you  still  out  with  your 
stall." 

That  was  where  she  should  have  been,  at  any  rate,  till  half  an 
hour  ago.  She  did  not  care  to  tell  herself,  much  less  Moses, 
that  she  had  been  waiting  at  home  for  the  envoy  of  peace  from 
the  filial  camp  summoning  her  to  the  ceremony  of  the  Redemp- 
tion of  her  grandson. 

"Well,  now  thou  seest  me,"  she  said,  speaking  Yiddish  for  his 
behoof,  "  thou  lookest  not  outwardly  anxious  to  know  how  it  goes 
with  me." 


40  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

'•  How  goes  it  with  you?  " 

"As  well  as  an  old  woman  has  a  right  to  expect.  The  Most 
High  is  good!"  Malka  was  in  her  most  amiable  mood,  to  em- 
phasize to  outsiders  the  injustice  of  her  kin  in  quarrelling  with 
her.  She  was  a  tall  woman  of  fifty,  with  a  tanned  equine  gypsy 
face  surmounted  by  a  black  wig,  and  decorated  laterally  by  great 
gold  earrings.  Great  black  eyes  blazed  beneath  great  black  eye- 
brows, and  the  skin  between  them  was  capable  of  wrinkling  itself 
black  with  wrath.  A  gold  chain  was  wound  thrice  round  her 
neck,  and  looped  up  within  her  black  silk  bodice.  There  were 
numerous  rings  on  her  fingers,  and  she  perpetually  smelt  of 
peppermint. 

"A^//,  stand  not  chattering  there,"  she  went  on.  "Come  in. 
Dost  thou  wish  me  to  catch  my  death  of  cold?" 

Moses  slouched  timidly  within,  his  head  bowed  as  if  in  dread 
of  knocking  against  the  top  of  the  door.  The  room  was  a  per- 
fect fac-simile  of  Milly's  parlor  at  the  other  end  of  the  diagonal, 
save  that  instead  of  the  festive  bottles  and  paper  bags  on  the 
small  side-table,  there  was  a  cheerless  clothes-brush.  Like 
Milly's,  the  room  contained  a  round  table,  a  chest  of  drawers 
with  decanters  on  the  top,  and  a  high  mantelpiece  decorated 
with  pendant  green  fringes,  fastened  by  big-headed  brass  nails. 
Here  cheap  china  dogs,  that  had  had  more  than  their  day 
squatted  amid  lustres  with  crystal  drops.  Before  the  fire  was  a 
lofty  steel  guard,  which,  useful  enough  in  Milly's  household,  had 
survived  its  function  in  Malka's,  where  no  one  was  ever  likely  to 
tumble  into  the  grate.  In  a  corner  of  the  room  a  little  staircase 
began  to  go  upstairs.  There  was  oilcloth  on  the  floor.  In 
Zachariah  Square  anybody  could  go  into  anybody  else's  house 
and  feel  at  home.  There  was  no  visible  difference  between  one 
and  another.  Moses  sat  down  awkwardly  on  a  chair  and  refused 
a  peppermint.  In  the  end  he  accepted  an  apple,  blessed  God  for 
creating  the  fruit  of  the  tree,  and  made  a  ravenous  bite  at  it. 

"  I  must  take  peppermints,"'  Malka  explained.  ^  It's  for  the 
spasms." 

"  But  you  said  you  were  well,"  murmured  Moses. 

"And  suppose?     If  I  did  not  take  peppermint  I  should  have 


MALKA.  41 

the  spasms.  My  poor  sister  Rosina,  peace  be  upon  him,  who 
died  of  typhoid,  suffered  greatly  from  the  spasms.  It's  in  the 
family.  She  would  have  died  of  asthma  if  she  had  lived  long 
enough.  Nu,  how  goes  it  with  theeP^'S'he  went  on,  suddenly 
remembering  that  Moses,  too,  had  a  right  to  be  ill.  At  bottom, 
Malka  felt  a  real  respect  for  Moses,  though  he  did  not  know  it. 
It  dated  from  the  day  he  cut  a  chip  of  mahogany  out  of  her  best 
round  table.  He  had  finished  cutting  his  nails,  and  wanted  a 
morsel  of  wood  to  burn  with  them  in  witness  of  his  fulfilment  of 
the  pious  custom.  Malka  raged,  but  in  her  inmost  heart  there 
was  admiration  for  such  unscrupulous  sanctity. 

"  I  have  been  out  of  work  for  three  weeks,"  Moses  answered, 
omitting  to  expound  the  state  of  his  health  in  view  of  more 
urgent  matters. 

"Unlucky  fool!  What  my  silly  cousin  Gittel,  peace  be  upon 
him,  could  see  to  marry  in  thee,  I  know  not." 

Moses  could  not  enlighten  her.  He  might  have  informed  her 
that  olov  hasholoni,  "  peace  be  upon  him,"  was  an  absurdity  when 
applied  to  a  woman,  but  then  he  used  the  pious  phrase  himself, 
although  aware  of  its  grammatical  shortcomings. 

"  I  told  her  thou  wouldst  never  be  able  to  keep  her,  poor 
lamb,"  Malka  went  on.  "  But  she  was  always  an  obstinate  pig. 
And  she  kept  her  head  high  up,  too,  as  if  she  had  five  pounds 
a  week  !  Never  would  let  her  children  earn  money  like  other 
people's  children.  But  thou  oughtest  not  to  be  so  obstinate. 
Thou  shouldst  have  more  sense,  Meshe ;  thoii  belongest  not  to 
my  family.     Why  can't  Solomon  go  out  with  matches? " 

''  Gittel's  soul  would  not  like  it." 

'*  But  the  living  have  bodies  !  Thou  rather  seest  thy  children 
starve  than  work.  There's  Esther,  —  an  idle,  lazy  brat,  always 
reading  story-books ;  why  doesn't  she  sell  flowers  or  pull  out 
bastings  in  the  evening?" 

"  Esther  and  Solomon  have  their  lessons  to  do." 

"Lessons!"  snorted  Malka.  "What's  the  good  of  lessons? 
It's  English,  not  Judaism,  they  teach  them  in  that  godless 
school.  I  could  never  read  or  write  anything  but  Hebrew  in  all 
my  life ;  but   God  be   thanked,  I  have  thriven  without  it.     All 


42  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO, 

they  teach  them  in  the  school  is  EngHsh  nonsense.  The  teachers 
are  a  pack  of  heathens,  who  eat  forbidden  things,  but  the  good 
Yiddishkeit  goes  to  the  wall.  Fm  ashamed  of  thee,  Meshe ; 
thou  dost  not  even  send  thy  boys  to  a  Hebrew  class  in  the 
evening." 

"  I  have  no  money,  and  they  must  do  their  English  lessons. 
Else,  perhaps,  their  clothes  will  be  stopped.  Besides,  I  teach 
them  myself  every  Shabbos  afternoon  and  Sunday.  Solomon 
translates  into  Yiddish  the  whole  Pentateuch  with  Rashi." 

"Yes,  he  may  know  T^Vrt//,"'' said  Malka,  not  to  be  baffled. 
"  But  he'll  never  know  Geinorah  or  MisJmayis.''''  Malka  herself 
knew  very  little  of  these  abstruse  subjects  beyond  their  names, 
and  the  fact  that  they  were  studied  out  of  minutely-printed  folios 
by  men  of  extreme  sanctity. 

"He  knows  a  little  Geniora/i,  too,"  said  Moses.  "I  can't 
teach  him  at  home  because  I  haven't  got  a  Geniorah,  —  it's  so 
expensive,  as  you  know.  But  he  went  with  me  to  the  Beth- 
Medrash,  when  the  Maggid  was  studying  it  with  a  class  free  of 
charge,  and  we  learnt  the  whole  of  the  Tj-actate  IViddah.  Solo- 
mon understands  very  well  all  about  the  Divorce  Laws,  and  he 
could  adjudicate  on  the  duties  of  women  to  their  husbands." 

"Ah,  but  he'll  never  know  Cabbu/a/i,'*''  smd  Malka,  driven  to 
her  last  citadel.  "  But  then  no  one  in  England  can  study  Cab- 
bulah  since  the  days  of  Rabbi  Falk  (the  memory  of  the  righteous 
for  a  blessing)  any  more  than  a  born  Englishman  can  learn 
Talmud.  There's  something  in  the  air  that  prevents  it.  In  my 
town  there  was  a  Rabbi  who  could  do  Cabbidah ;  he  could  call 
Abraham  our  father  from  the  grave.  But  in  this  pig-eating 
country  no  one  can  be  holy  enough  for  the  Name,  blessed  be 
It,  to  grant  him  the  privilege.  I  don't  believe  the  SJwchctim  kill 
the  animals  properly  ;  the  statutes  are  violated  ;  even  pious  people 
eat  tripha  cheese  and  butter.  I  don't  say  thou  dost,  Meshe, 
but  thou  lettest  thy  children." 

"  Well,  your  own  butter  is  not  kosher,''''  said  Moses,  nettled. 

"  My  butter  ?  What  does  it  matter  about  my  butter  ?  I  never 
set  up  for  a  purist.  I  don't  come  of  a  family  of  Rabbonim.  I'm 
only  a  business  woman.     It's  \\\^  frooDi  people  that  I  complain 


MALKA.  43 

of;  the  people  who  ought  to  set  an  example,  and  are  lowering 
the  standard  of  Froojnkeit.  I  caught  a  beadle's  wife  the  other 
day  washing  her  meat  and  butter  plates  in  the  same  bowl  of 
water.  In  time  they  will  be  frying  steal^s  in  butter,  and  they 
will  end  by  eating  trip/ia  meat  out  of  butter  plates,  and  the 
judgment  of  God  will  come.  But  what  is  become  of  thine 
apple?  Thou  hast  not  gorged  it  already?"  Moses  nervously 
pointed  to  his  trousers  pocket,  bulged  out  by  the  mutilated 
globe.  After  his  first  ravenous  bite  Moses  had  bethought  him- 
self of  his  responsibilities. 

"  It's  for  the  kinder,'''^  he  explained. 

" A7/,  the  kinder!''''  snorted  Malka  disdainfully.  "And  what 
will  they  give  thee  for  it  ?  Verily,  not  a  thank  you.  In  my 
young  days  we  trembled  before  the  father  and  the  mother,  and 
my  mother,  peace  be  upon  him,  patched  my  face  after  I  was  a 
married  woman.  I  shall  never  forget  that  slap  —  it  nearly  made 
me  adhere  to  the  wall.  But  now-a-days  our  children  sit  on  our 
heads.  I  gave  my  Milly  all  she  has  in  the  world  —  a  house,  a 
shop,  a  husband,  and  my  best  bed-linen.  And  now  when  I  want 
her  to  call  the  child  Yosef,  after  my  first  husband,  peace  be  on 
him,  her  own  father,  she  would  out  of  sheer  vexatiousness,  call 
it  Yechezkel."  Malka's  voice  became  more  strident  than  ever. 
She  had  been  anxious  to  make  a  species  of  vicarious  reparation 
to  her  first  husband,  and  the  failure  of  Milly  to  acquiesce  in  the 
arrangement  was  a  source  of  real  vexation. 

Moses  could  think  of  nothing  better  to  say  than  to  inquire 
how  her  present  husband  was. 

"  He  overworks  himself,"  Malka  replied,  shaking  her  head. 
"  The  misfortune  is  that  he  thinks  himself  a  good  man  of  busi- 
ness, and  he  is  always  starting  new  enterprises  without  consult- 
ing me.     If  he  would  only  take  my  advice  more  !  " 

Moses  shook  his  head  in  sympathetic  deprecation  of  Michael 
Birnbaum's  wilfulness. 

"  Is  he  at  home?  "  he  asked. 

"  No,  but  I  expect  him  back  from  the  country  every  minute. 
I  believe  they  have  invited  him  for  the  Pidyun  Haben  to-day." 

''  Oh,  is  that  to-day  ? " 


44  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

"  Of  course.     Didst  thou  not  know  ?  " 

"  No,  no  one  told  me.'" 

"  Thine  own  sense  should  have  told  thee.  Is  it  not  the  thirty- 
first  day  since  the  birth.?  But  of  course  he  won't  accept  when  he 
knows  that  my  own  daughter  has  driven  me  out  of  her  house." 

"  You  say  not !  "  exclaimed  Moses  in  horror. 

"  I  do  say,"  said  Malka,  unconsciously  taking  up  the  clothes- 
brush  and  thumping  with  it  on  the  table  to  emphasize  the  out- 
rage. "I  told  her  that  when  Yechezkel  cried  so  much,  it  would 
be  better  to  look  for  the  pin  than  to  dose  the  child  for  gripes. 
^I  dressed  it  myself.  Mother,'  says  she.  'Thou  art  an  obstinate 
cat's  head,  Milly,'  says  I.  'I  say  there  is  a  pin.'  'And  I  know 
better,' says  she.  'How  canst  thou  know  better  than  I?'  says  I. 
'Why,  I  was  a  mother  before  thou  wast  born.'  So  I  unrolled 
the  child's  flannel,  and  sure  enough  underneath  it  just  over  the 
stomach  I  found  —  " 

"The  pin,"  concluded  Moses,  shaking  his  head  gravely. 

"  No,  not  exactly.  But  a  red  mark  where  the  pin  had  been 
pricking  the  poor  little  thing." 

"And  what  did  Milly  say  then?"  said  Moses  in  sympathetic 
triumph. 

"Milly  said  it  was  a  flea-bite!  and  I  said,  'Gott  in  Himmel, 
Milly,  dost  thou  want  to  swear  my  eyes  away?  My  enemies 
shall  have  such  a  flea-bite.'  And  because  Red  Rivkah  was  in 
the  room,  Milly  said  I  was  shedding  her  blood  in  public,  and  she 
began  to  cry  as  if  I  had  committed  a  crime  against  her  in  looking 
after  her  child.  And  I  rushed  out,  leaving  the  two  babies  howl- 
ing together.     That  was  a  week  ago." 

"And  how  is  the  child?" 

"How  should  I  know?  lam  only  the  grandmother.  I  only 
supplied  the  bed-linen  it  was  born  on." 

"  But  is  it  recovered  from  the  circumcision?" 

"Oh,  yes,  all  our  family  have  good  healing  flesh.  It's  a  fine 
child,  imbeshreer.  It's  got  my  eyes  and  nose.  It's  a  rare  hand- 
some baby,  i/nbeshreer.  Only  it  won't  be  its  mother's  fault  if  the 
Almighty  takes  it  not  back  again.  Milly  has  picked  up  so  many 
ignorant    Lane  women  who  come  in  and  blight    the   child,  by 


MALKA.  45 

admiring  it  aloud,  not  even  sdiy'mg  vubeshreer.  And  then  there's 
an  old  witch,  a  beggar-woman  that  Ephraim,  my  son-in-law, 
used  to  give  a  shilling  a  week  to.  Now  he  only  gives  her  nine- 
pence.  She  asked  him  'why?'  and  he  said,  '  Tm  married  now. 
I  can't  afford  more.'  'What!'  she  shrieked,  '  you  got  married 
on  my  money  ! '  And  one  Friday  when  the  nurse  had  baby 
downstairs,  the  old  beggar-woman  knocked  for  her  weekly  allow- 
ance, and  she  opened  the  door,  and  she  saw  the  child,  and  she 
looked  at  it  with  her  Evil  Eye!  I  hope  to  Heaven  nothing  will 
come  of  it." 

"  1  will  pray  for  Yechezkel,"  said  Moses. 

"  Pray  for  Milly  also,  while  thou  art  about  it,  that  she  may 
remember  what  is  owing  to  a  mother  before  the  earth  covers  me. 
I  don't  know  what's  coming  over  children.  Look  at  my  Leah. 
She  will  marry  that  Sam  Levine,  though  he  belongs  to  a  lax 
English  family,  and  I  suspect  his  mother  was  a  proselyte.  She 
can't  fry  fish  any  way.  I  don't  say  anything  against  Sam,  but 
still  I  do  think  my  Leah  might  have  told  me  before  falling  in 
love  with  him.  And  yet  see  how  I  treat  them  !  My  Michael 
made  a  Missheberach  for  them  in  synagogue  the  Sabbath  after 
the  engagement ;  not  a  common  eighteen-penny  benediction,  but 
a  guinea  one,  with  half-crown  blessings  thrown  in  for  his  parents 
and  the  congregation,  and  a  gift  of  five  shillings  to  the  minister. 
That  \vas  of  course  in  our  own  Chevrah,  not  reckoning  the 
guinea  my  Michael  shnodared  at  Duke's  Plaizer  Shoot.  You 
know  we  always  keep  two  seats  at  Duke's  Plaizer  as  well." 
Duke's  Plaizer  was  the  current  distortion  of  Duke's  Place. 

"  What  magnanimity,"  said  Moses  overawed. 

"  I  like  to  do  everything  with  decorum,"  said  Malka.  "  No 
one  can  say  I  have  ever  acted  otherwise  than  as  a  fine  person. 
I  dare  say  thou  couldst  do  with  a  few  shillings  thyself  now." 

Moses  hung  his  head  still  lower.  "  You  see  my  mother  is  so 
poorly,"  he  stammered.  "  She  is  a  very  old  woman,  and  without 
anything  to  eat  she  may  not  live  long." 

"  They  ought  to  take  her  into  the  Aged  Widows'  Home.  I'm 
sure  I  gave  her  ;;//  votes." 

"God  shall  bless  you  for  it.     But  people  say  I  was   lucky 


46  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

enough  to  get  my  Benjamin  into  the  Orphan  Asylum,  and  that 
I  ought  not  to  have  brought  her  from  Poland.  They  say  we 
grow  enough  poor  old  widows  here." 

"  People  say  quite  right  —  at  least  she  would  have  starved  in 
a  Yiddishe  country,  not  in  a  land  of  heathens." 

"  But  she  was  lonely  and  miserable  out  there,  exposed  to  all 
the  malice  of  the  Christians.  And  I  was  earning  a  pound  a 
week.  Tailoring  was  a  good  trade  then.  The  few  roubles  I 
used  to  send  her  did  not  always  reach  her." 

"Thou  hadst  no  right  to  send  her  anything,  nor  to  send  for 
her.  Mothers  are  not  everything.  Thou  didst  marry  my  cousin 
Gittel,  peace  be  upon  him,  and  it  was  thy  duty  to  support  her 
and  her  children.  Thy  mother  took  the  bread  out  of  the  mouth 
of  Gittel,  and  but  for  her  my  poor  cousin  might  have  been  alive 
to-day.     Believe  me  it  was  no  MitzvahP 

Mitzvah  is  a  "  portmanteau-word."  It  means  a  commandment 
and  a  good  deed,  the  two  conceptions  being  regarded  as  inter- 
changeable. 

"  Nay,  thou  errest  there,"  answered  Moses.  "  Gittel  was  not 
a  phoenix  which  alone  ate  not  of  the  Tree  of  Knowledge  and 
lives  for  ever.  Women  have  no  need  to  live  as  long  as  men,  for 
they  have  not  so  many  Mitzvahs  to  perform  as  men;  and  inas- 
much as"  —  here  his  tones  involuntarily  assumed  the  argumenta- 
tive sing-song  —  "their  souls  profit  by  all  the  Mitzvahs  performed 
by  their  husbands  and  children,  Gittel  will  profit  by  the  Mitzvah 
I  did  in  bringing  over  my  mother,  so  that  even  if  she  did  die 
through  it,  she  will  not  be  the  loser  thereby.  It  stands  in  the 
Verse  that  man  shall  do  the  Mitzvahs  and  live  by  them.  To 
live  is  a  Mitzvah.,  but  it  is  plainly  one  of  those  Mitzvahs  that 
have  to  be  done  at  a  definite  time,  from  which  species  women, 
by  reason  of  their  household  duties,  are  exempt ;  wherefore  I 
would  deduce  by  another  circuit  that  it  is  not  so  incumbent  upon 
women  to  live  as  upon  men.  Nevertheless,  if  God  had  willed  it, 
she  would  have  been  still  alive.  The  Holy  One,  blessed  be  He, 
will  provide  for  the  little  ones  He  has  sent  into  the  world.  He 
fed  Elijah  the  prophet  by  ravens,  and  He  will  never  send  me  a 
black  Sabbath." 


THE   REDEMPTION  OF  SON  AND  DAUGHTER.     47 

"  Oh,  you  are  a  saint,  Meshe,*"  said  Malka,  so  impressed  that 
she  admitted  him  to  the  equality  of  the  second  person  plural. 
"  If  everybody  knew  as  much  Terah  as  you,  the  Messiah  would 
soon  be  here.  Here  are  five  shillings.  •■  For  five  shillings  you 
can  get  a  basket  of  lemons  in  the  Orange  Market  in  Duke's 
Place,  and  if  you  sell  them  in  the  Lane  at  a  halfpenny  each,  you 
will  make  a  good  profit.  Put  aside  five  shillings  of  your  takings 
and  get  another  basket,  and  so  you  will  be  able  to  live  till  the 
tailoring  picks  up  a  bit."  Moses  listened  as  if  he  had  never 
heard  of  the  elementary  principles  of  barter. 

"May  the  Name,  blessed  be  It,  bless  you,  and  may  you  see 
rejoicings  on  your  children''s  children." 

So  Moses  went  away  and  bought  dinner,  treating  his  family  to 
some  beuglich,  or  circular  twisted  rolls,  in  his  joy.  But  on  the 
morrow  he  repaired  to  the  Market,  thinking  on  the  way  of  the 
ethical  distinction  between  "  duties  of  the  heart "  and  "  duties  of 
the  limbs,"  as  expounded  in  choice  Hebrew  by  Rabbenu  Bachja, 
and  he  laid  out  the  remnant  in  lemons.  Then  he  stationed 
himself  in  Petticoat  Lane,  crying,  in  his  imperfect  English, 
"  Lemans,  verra  good  lemans,  two  a  penny  each,  two  a  penny 
each ! " 

CHAPTER   IV. 

THE  REDEMPTION  OF  THE  SON  AND  THE  DAUGHTER. 

Malka  did  not  have  long  to  wait  for  her  liege  lord.  He  was 
a  fresh-colored  young  man  of  thirty,  rather  good-looking,  with 
side  whiskers,  keen,  eager  glance,  and  an  air  of  perpetually  doing 
business.  Though  a  native  of  Germany,  he  spoke  English  as 
well  as  many  Lane  Jews,  whose  comparative  impiety  was  a  cer- 
tificate of  British  birth.  Michael  Birnbaum  was  a  great  man  in 
the  local  little  synagogue  if  only  one  of  the  crowd  at  "  Duke's 
Plaizer."  He  had  been  successively  Gabbai  and  Parnass,  or 
treasurer  and  president,  and  had  presented  the  plush  curtain, 
with  its  mystical  decoration  of  intersecting  triangles,  woven  in 
silk,  that  hung  before  the  Ark  in  which  the  scrolls  of  the  Law 


48  CHILDREN   OF   THE    GHETTO. 

were  kept.  He  was  the  very  antithesis  of  Moses  Ansell.  His 
energy  was  restless.  From  hawking  he  had  risen  to  a  profitable 
traffic  in  gold  lace  and  Brummagem  jewelry,  with  a  large  clientele 
all  over  the  countrv,  before  he  was  twentv.  He  touched  nothing 
which  he  did  not  profit  by ;  and  when  he  married,  at  twenty- 
three,  a  woman  nearly  twice  his  age,  the  transaction  was  not 
without  the  usual  percentage.  Very  soon  his  line  was  diamonds, 
—  real  diamonds.  He  carried  a  pocket-knife  which  was  a  com- 
bination of  a  corkscrew,  a  pair  of  scissors,  a  file,  a  pair  of 
tweezers,  a  toothpick,  and  half  a  dozen  other  things,  and  which 
seemed  an  epitome  of  his  character.  His  temperament  was 
lively,  and,  like  Ephraim  Phillips,  he  liked  music-halls.  Fortu- 
nately, Malka  was  too  conscious  of  her  charms  to  dream  of 
jealousy. 

Michael  smacked  her  soundly  on  the  mouth  with  his  lips  and 
said:  "Well,  mother!'' 

He  called  her  mother,  not  because  he  had  any  children,  but 
because  she  had,  and  it  seemed  a  pity  to  multiply  domestic 
nomenclature. 

"Well,  my  little  one,"  said  Malka,  hugging  him  fondly. 
"  Have  you  made  a  good  journey  this  time?  " 

"No,  trade  is  so  dull.  People  won't  put  their  hands  in  their 
pockets.     And  here?" 

"  People  won't  take  their  hands  out  of  their  pockets,  lazy  dogs! 
Everybody  is  striking, — Jews  with  them.  Unheard-of  things! 
The  bootmakers,  the  capmakers,  the  furriers!  And  now  they 
say  the  tailors  are  going  to  strike  ;  more  fools,  too,  when  the 
trade  is  so  slack.  What  with  one  thing  and  another  (let  me  put 
your  cravat  straight,  my  little  love),  it's  just  the  people  who 
can't  afford  to  buy  new  clothes  that  are  hard  up,  so  that  they 
can't  afford  to  buy  second-hand  clothes  either.  If  the  Almighty 
is  not  good  to  us,  we  shall  come  to  the  Board  of  Guardians 
ourselves." 

"Not  quite  so  bad  as  that,  mother,"  laughed  Michael,  twirling 
the  massive  diamond  ring  on  his  finger.  "  How's  baby?  Is  it 
ready  to  be  redeemed  ?  " 

"Which  baby?"  said  Malka,  with  well-affected  agnosticism. 


THE  REDEMPTION   OF  SON  AND  DAUGHTER.     49 

"  Phew!  "  whistled  Michael.     "What's  up  now,  mother?" 
. ''  Nothing,  my  pet,  nothing." 

"Well,  Pm  going  across.  Come  along,  mother.  Oh,  wait  a 
minute.  I  want  to  brush  this  mud  off  my  trousers.  Is  the 
clothes-brush  here  ? " 

"  Yes,  dearest  one,"  said  the  unsuspecting  Malka. 

Michael  winked  imperceptibly,  flicked  his  trousers,  and  with- 
out further  parley  ran  across  the  diagonal  to  Milly's  house. 
Five  minutes  afterwards  a  deputation,  consisting  of  a  char- 
woman, waited  upon  Malka  and  said  : 

"  Missus  says  will  you  please  come  over,  as  baby  is  a-cryin' 
for  its  grandma." 

"Ah,  that  must  be  another  pin,"  said  Malka,  with  a  gleam  of 
triumph  at  her  victory.  But  she  did  not  budge.  At  the  end  of 
five  minutes  she  rose  solemnly,  adjusted  her  wig  and  her  dress 
in  the  mirror,  put  on  her  bonnet,  brushed  away  a  non-existent 
speck  of  dust  from  her  left  sleeve,  put  a  peppermint  in  her  mouth, 
and  crossed  the  Square,  carrying  the  clothes-brush  in  her  hand. 
Milly's  door  was  half  open,  but  she  knocked  at  it  and  said  to  the 
char-woman : 

"Is  Mrs.  Phillips  in?" 

"  Yes,  mum,  the  company's  all  upstairs." 

"  Oh,  then  I  will  go  up  and  return  her  this  myself." 

Malka  went  straight  through  the  little  crowd  of  guests  to 
Milly,  who  was  sitting  on  a  sofa  with  Ezekiel,  quiet  as  a  lamb 
and  as  good  as  gold,  in  her  arms. 

"  Milly,  my  dear,"  she  said.  "  I  have  come  to  bring  you  back 
your  clothes-brush.     Thank  you  so  much  for  the  loan  of  it." 

"  You  know  you're  welcome,  mother,"  said  Milly,  with  uninten- 
tionally dual  significance.  The  two  ladies  embraced.  Ephra- 
im  Phillips,  a  sallow-looking,  close-cropped  Pole,  also  kissed 
his  mother-in-law,  and  the  gold  chain  that  rested  on  Malka's 
bosom  heaved  with  the  expansion  of  domestic  pride.  Malka 
thanked  God  she  was  not  a  mother  of  barren  or  celibate  children, 
which  is  only  one  degree  better  than  personal  unfruitfulness, 
and  testifies  scarce  less  to  the  celestial  curse. 

"Is  that  pin-mark  gone  away  yet,  Milly,  from  the  precious 

E 


50  CHILDREN  OF  THE    GHETTO. 

little  thing?"  said  Malka,  taking  Ezekiel  in  her  arms  and  dis- 
regarding the  transformation  of  face  which  in  babies  precedes  a 
storm. 

^'  Yes,  it  was  a  mere  flea-bite,"  said  Milly  incautiously,  adding 
hurriedly,  "  I  always  go  through  his  flannels  and  things  most 
carefully  to  see  there  are  no  more  pins  lurking  about." 

"That  is  right!  Pins  are  like  fleas  —  you  never  know  where 
they  get  to,"  said  Malka  in  an  insidious  spirit  of  compromise. 
"Where  is  Leah?" 

"  She  is  in  the  back  yard  frying  the  last  of  the  fish.  Don't 
you  smell  it?" 

"It  will  hardly  have  time  to  get  cold." 

"  Well,  but  I  did  a  dishful  myself  last  night.  She  is  only  pre- 
paring a  reserve  in  case  the  attack  be  too  deadly." 

"  And  where  is  the  Cohen  ?  " 

"  Oh,  we  have  asked  old  Hyams  across  the  Ruins.  We  expect 
him  round  every  minute." 

At  this  point  the  indications  of  EzekiePs  facial  barometer  were 
fulfilled,  and  a  tempest  of  weeping  shook  him. 

'''■Nal  Go  then!  Go  to  the  mother!"  said  Malka  angrily. 
"  All  my  children  are  alike.  It's  getting  late.  Hadn't  you  bet- 
ter send  across  again  for  old  Hyams?" 

"  There's  no  hurry,  mother,"  said  Michael  Birnbaum  sooth- 
ingly.    "We  must  wait  for  Sam." 

"  And  who's  Sam?"  cried  Malka  unappeased. 

"  Sam  is  Leah's  Chosan^''  replied  Michael  ingenuously. 

"Clever!"  sneered  Malka.  "  But  my  grandson  is  not  going  to 
wait  for  the  son  of  a  proselyte.     Why  doesn't  he  come?" 

"  He'll  be  here  in  one  minute." 

"  How  do  you  know?" 

"We  came  up  in  the  same  train.  He  got  in  at  Middles- 
borough.  He's  just  gone  home  to  see  his  folks,  and  get  a  wash 
and  a  brush-up.  Considering  he's  coming  up  to  town  merely 
for  the  sake  of  the  family  ceremony,  I  think  it  would  be  very 
rude  to  commence  without  him.  It's  no  joke,  a  long  railway 
journey  this  weather.  My  feet  were  nearly  frozen  despite  the 
foot-warmer." 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  SON  AND  DAUGHTER.     51 

"  My  poor  lambkin,""  said  Malka,  melting.  And  she  patted 
his  side  whiskers. 

Sam  Levine  arrived  almost  immediately,  and  Leah,  fishfork  in 
hand,  flew  out  of  the  back-yard  kitchen  lo  greet  him.  Though 
a  member  of  the  tribe  of  Levi,  he  was  anything  but  ecclesiastical 
in  appearance,  rather  a  representative  of  muscular  Judaism.  He 
had  a  pink  and  w^hite  complexion,  and  a  tawny  moustache,  and 
bubbled  over  with  energy  and  animal  spirits.  He  could  give 
most  men  thirty  in  a  hundred  in  billiards,  and  fifty  in  anecdote. 
He  w^as  an  advanced  Radical  in  politics,  and  had  a  high  opinion 
of  the  intelligence  of  his  party.  He  paid  Leah  lip-fealty  on  his 
entry. 

"What  a  pity  ifs  Sunday  !"  was  Leah's  first  remark  when  the 
kissing  was  done. 

"  No  going  to  the  play,"  said  Sam  ruefully,  catching  her 
meaning. 

They  always  celebrated  his  return  from  a  commercial  round 
by  going  to  the  theatre  —  the-etter  they  pronounced  it.  They 
went  to  the  pit  of  the  West  End  houses  rather  than  patronize 
the  local  dress  circles  for  the  same  money.  There  were  two 
strata  of  Ghetto  girls,  those  who  strolled  in  the  Strand  on  Sab- 
bath, and  those  who  strolled  in  the  Whitechapel  Road.  Leah 
was  of  the  upper  stratum.  She  was  a  tall  lovely  brunette,  exu- 
berant of  voice  and  figure,  with  coarse  red  hands.  She  doted 
on  ice-cream  in  the  summer,  and  hot  chocolate  in  the  winter,  but 
her  love  of  the  theatre  w^as  a  perennial  passion.  Both  Sam  and 
she  had  good  ears,  and  w^re  always  first  in  the  field  with  the 
latest  comic  opera  tunes.  Leah's  healthy  vitality  was  prodigious. 
There  was. a  legend  in  the  Lane  of  such  a  maiden  having  been 
chosen  by  a  coronet ;  Leah  was  satisfied  with  Sam,  who  was  just 
her  match.  On  the  heels  of  Sam  came  several  other  guests, 
notably  Mrs.  Jacobs  (wife  of  "Reb"  Shemuel),  with  her  pretty 
daughter,  Hannah.  Mr.  Hyams,  the  Cohen.,  came  last — the 
Priest  whose  functions  had  so  curiously  dwindled  since  the  times 
of  the  Temples.  To  be  called  first  to  the  reading  of  the  Law,  to 
bless  his  brethren  with  symbolic  spreadings  of  palms  and  fingers 
in  a  mystic  incantation  delivered,  standing  shoeless  before  the 


62  CHILDREN   OF   THE    GHETTO. 

Ark  of  the  Covenant  at  festival  seasons,  to  redeem  the  mother^s 
first-born  son  when  neither  parent  was  of  priestly  lineage  — 
these  privileges  combined  with  a  disability  to  be  with  or  near 
the  dead,  differentiated  his  religious  position  from  that  of  the 
Levite  or  the  Israelite.  Mendel  Hyams  was  not  puiTed  up  about 
his  tribal  superiority,  though  if  tradition  were  to  be  trusted,  his 
direct  descent  from  Aaron,  the  High  Priest,  gave  him  a  longer 
genealogy  than  Queen  Victoria's.  He  was  a  meek  sexagenarian, 
with  a  threadbare  black  coat  and  a  child-like  smile.  All  the 
pride  of  the  family  seemed  to  be  monopolized  by  his  daughter 
Miriam,  a  girl  whose  very  nose  Heaven  had  fashioned  scornful. 
Miriam  had  accompanied  him  out  of  contemptuous  curiosity. 
She  wore  a  stylish  feather  in  her  hat,  and  a  boa  round  her 
throat,  and  earned  thirty  shillings  a  week,  all  told,  as  a  school 
teacher.  (Esther  Ansell  was  in  her  class  just  now.)  Probably 
her  toilette  had  made  old  Hyams  unpunctual.  His  arrival  was 
the  signal  for  the  commencement  of  the  proceedings,  and  the 
men  hastened  to  assume  their  head-gear. 

Ephraim  Phillips  cautiously  took  the  swaddled-up  infant  from 
the  bosom  of  Milly  where  it  was  suckling  and  presented  it  to 
old  Hyams.  Fortunately  Ezekiel  had  already  had  a  repletion  of 
milk,  and  was  drowsy  and  manifested  very  little  interest  in  the 
whole  transaction. 

"  This  my  first-born  son,"  said  Ephraim  in  Hebrew  as  he 
handed  Ezekiel  over  —  "  is  the  first-born  of  his  mother,  and  the 
Holy  One,  blessed  be  He,  hath  given  command  to  redeem  him, 
as  it  is  said,  and  those  that  are  to  be  redeemed  of  them  from 
a  month  old,  shalt  thou  redeem  according  to  thine  estimation 
for  the  money  of  five  shekels  after  the  shekel  of  the  sanctuary, 
the  shekel  being  twenty  gerahs  ;  and  it  is  said,  '  Sanctify  unto 
me  all  the  first-born,  whatsoever  openeth  the  womb  among  the 
children  of  Israel,  both  of  man  and  of  beast ;  it  is  mine.'  " 

Ephraim  Phillips  then  placed  fifteen  shillings  in  silver  before 
old  Hyams,  who  thereupon  inquired  in  Chaldaic :  "  Which 
wouldst  thou  rather — give  me  thy  first-born  son,  the  first-born 
of  his  mother,  or  redeem  him  for  five  selaim,  which  thou  art 
bound  to  give  according  to  the  Law  ?  " 


THE   REDEMPTION   OF  SON  AND  DAUGHTER.     53 

Ephraim  replied  in  Chaldaic :  ''  I  am  desirous  rather  to  re- 
deem my  son,  and  here  thou  hast  the  value  of  his  redemption, 
which  I  am  bound  to  give  according  to  the  Law.*" 

Thereupon  Hyams  took  the  money  tendered,  and  gave  back 
the  child  to  his  father,  who  blessed  God  for  His  sanctifying  com- 
mandments, and  thanked  Him  for  His  mercies ;  after  which  the 
old  Cohen  held  the  fifteen  shillings  over  the  head  of  the  infant, 
saying :  "  This  instead  of  that,  this  in  exchange  for  that,  this  in 
remission  of  that.  May  this  child  enter  into  life,  into  the  Law, 
and  into  the  fear  of  Heaven.  May  it  be  God's  will  that  even  as 
he  has  been  admitted  to  redemption,  so  may  he  enter  into  the 
Law,  the  nuptial  canopy  and  into  good  deeds.  Amen."  Then, 
placing  his  hand  in  benediction  upon  the  child's  head,  the 
priestly  layman  added :  "  God  make  thee  as  Ephraim  and 
Manasseh.  The  Lord  bless  thee  and  keep  thee.  The  Lord 
make  His  face  to  shine  upon  thee,  and  be  gracious  unto  thee. 
The  Lord  turn  His  face  to  thee  and  grant  thee  peace.  The 
Lord  is  thy  guardian ;  the  Lord  is  thy  shade  upon  thy  right 
hand.  For  length  of  days  and  years  of  life  and  peace  shall  they 
add  to  thee.  The  Lord  shall  guard  thee  from  all  evil.  He  shall 
guard  thy  soul.'' 

"  Amen,"  answered  the  company,  and  then  there  was  a  buzz 
of  secular  talk,  general  rapture  being  expressed  at  the  stolidness 
of  Ezekiel's  demeanor.  Cups  of  tea  were  passed  round  by  the 
lovely  Leah,  and  the  secrets  of  the  paper  bags  were  brought  to 
light.  Ephraim  Phillips  talked  horses  with  Sam  Levine,  and 
old  Hyams  quarrelled  with  Malka  over  the  disposal  of  the  fifteen 
shillings.  Knowing  that  Hyams  was  poor,  Malka  refused  to 
take  back  the  money  retendered  by  him  unde*  pretence  of  a  gift 
to  the  child.  The  Cohen,  however,  was  a  proud  man,  and  under 
the  eye  of  Miriam  a  firm  one.  Ultimately  it  was  agreed  the 
money  should  be  expended  on  a  Missheberach,  for  the  infant's 
welfare  and  the  synagogue's.  Birds  of  a  feather  flock  together, 
and  Miriam  forgathered  with  Hannah  Jacobs,  who  also  had  a 
stylish  feather  in  her  hat,  and  was  the  most  congenial  of  the 
company.  Mrs.  Jacobs  was  left  to  discourse  of  the  ailments  of 
childhood   and   the   iniquities    of   servants   with  Mrs.    Philips. 


54  CHILDREN   OF   THE    GHETTO. 

Reb  Shemuers  wife,  commonly  known  as  the  Rebbitzin,  was  a 
tall  woman  with  a  bony  nose  and  shrivelled  cheeks,  whereon  the 
paths  of  the  blood-vessels  were  scrawled  in  red.  The  same 
bones  were  visible  beneath  the  plumper  padding  of  Hannah's 
face.  Mrs.  Jacobs  had  escaped  the  temptation  to  fatness,  which 
is  the  besetting  peril  of  the  Jewish  matron.  If  Hannah  could 
escape  her  mother's  inclination  to  angularity  she  would  be  a 
pretty  woman.  She  dressed  with  taste,  which  is  half  the  battle, 
and  for  the  present  she  was  only  nineteen. 

"-  Do  you  think  it's  a  good  match  ? ''  said  Miriam  Hyams,  in- 
dicatino;  Sam  Levine  with  a  movement  of  the  eyebrow. 

A  swift,  scornful  look  flitted  across  Hannah's  face.  "Among 
the  Jews,"  she  said,  "  every  match  is  a  grand  Shiddiich  before 
the  marriage  ;  after,  we  hear  another  tale." 

"There  is  a  good  deal  in  that,"  admitted  Miriam,  thought- 
fully. "  The  girl's'  family  cries  up  the  capture  shamelessly.  I 
remember  when  Clara  Emanuel  was  engaged,  her  brother  Jack 
told  me  it  was  a  splendid  Shidduch.  Afterwards  I  found  he 
was  a  widower  of  fifty-five  with  three  children." 

"But  that  engagement  went  off,"  said  Hannah. 

"I  know,"  said  Miriam.  "  I'm  only  saying  I  can't  fancy  my- 
self doing  anything  of  the  kind." 

"  What  !  breaking  off  an  engagement?  "  said  Hannah,  with  a 
cynical  little  twinkle  about  her  eye. 

"  No,  taking  a  man  like  that,"  replied  Miriam.  "  I  wouldn't 
look  at  a  man  over  thirty-five,  or  with  less  than  two  hundred  and 
fifty  a  year." 

"  You'll  never  marry  a  teacher,  then,"  Hannah  remarked. 

"  Teacher  ! "  Miriam  Hyams  repeated,  with  a  look  of  disgust. 
"  How  can  one  be  respectable  on  three  pounds  a  week?  I  must 
have  a  man  in  a  good  position."  She  tossed  her  piquant  nose 
and  looked  almost  handsome.  She  was  five  years  older  than 
Hannah,  and  it  seemed  an  enigma  why  men  did  not  rush  to  lay 
five  pounds  a  week  at  her  daintily  shod  feet. 

"  rd  rather  marry  a  man  with  two  pounds  a  week  if  I  loved 
him,"  said  Hannah  in  a  low  tone. 

"  Not  in  this  century,"  said  Miriam,  shaking  her  head  incredu- 


THE   REDEMPTION  OF  SON  AND  DAUGHTER.     55 

lously.  "  We  don''t  believe  in  that  nonsense  now-a-days.  There 
was  Alice  Green,  —  she  used  to  talk  like  that,  —  now  look  at 
her,  riding  about  in  a  gig  side  by  side  with  a  bald  monkey." 

"Alice  Greenes  mother,"  interrupted  Maika,  pricking  up  her 
ears,  "married  a  son  of  Mendel  Weinstein  by  his  third  wife,' 
Dinah,  who  had  ten  pounds  left  her  by  her  uncle  Shloumi." 

"  No,  Dinah  was  Menders  second  wife,"  corrected  Mrs.  Jacobs, 
cutting  short  a  remark  of  Mrs.  Phillips's  in  favor  of  the  new 
interest. 

"Dinah  was  Mendel's  third  wife,"  repeated  Malka,  her  tanned 
cheeks  reddening.  "  I  know  it  because  my  Simon,  God  bless 
him,  was  breeched  the  same  month." 

Simon  was  Malka's  eldest,  now  a  magistrate  in  Melbourne. 

"His  third  wife  was  Kitty  Green,  daughter  of  the  yellow 
Melammed,"  persisted  the  Rebbitzin.  "  I  know  it  for  a  fact, 
because  Kitty's  sister  Annie  was  engaged  for  a  week  to  my 
brother-in-law  Nathaniel." 

"  His  first  wife,"  put  in  Malka's  husband,  with  the  air  of  arbi- 
trating between  the  two,  "was  Shmool  the  publican's  eldest 
daughter." 

"  Shmool  the  publican's  daughter,"  said  Malka,  stirred  to 
fresh  indignation,  "  married  Hyam  Robins,  the  grandson  of  old 
Benjamin,  who  kept  the  cutlery  shop  at  the  corner  of  Little 
Eden  Alley,  there  where  the  pickled  cucumber  store  stands 
now." 

"  It  was  Shmool's  sister  that  married  Hyam  Robins,  wasn't 
it,  mother?  "  asked  Milly,  incautiously. 

"  Certainly  not,"  thundered  Malka.  "  I  knew  old  Benjamin 
well,  and  he  sent  me  a  pair  of  chintz  curtains  when  I  married 
your  father." 

"  Poor  old  Benjamin!  How  long  has  he  been  dead?  "  mused 
Reb  Shemuel's  wife. 

"  He  died  the  year  I  was  confined  with  my  Leah " 

"Stop!  stop!  "  interrupted  Sam  Levine  boisterously.  "There's 
Leah  getting  as  red  as  fire  for  fear  you'll  blab  out  her  age." 

"  Don't  be  a  fool,  Sam,"  said  Leah,  blushing  violently,  and 
looking  the  lovelier  for  it. 


66  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

The  attention  of  the  entire  company  was  now  concentrated 
upon  the  question  at  issue,  whatever  it  might  be.  Malka  fixed 
her  audience  with  her  piercing  eye,  and  said  in  a  tone  that  scarce 
brooked  contradiction :  "  Hyam  Robins  couldn't  have  married 
ShmooPs  sister  because  Shmool's  sister  was  already  the  wife  of 
Abraham  the  fishmonger." 

"Yes,  but  Shmool  had  two  sisters,"  said  Mrs.  Jacobs,  auda- 
ciously asserting  her  position  as  the  rival  genealogist. 

"  Nothing  of  the  kind,"  replied  Malka  warmly. 

"  Fm  quite  sure,"  persisted  Mrs.  Jacobs.  "There  was  Phoeby 
and  there  was  Harriet." 

"  Nothing  of  the  kind,"  repeated  Malka.     "  Shmool  had  three 
sisters.     Only  two  were  in  the  deaf  and  dumb  home." 
'    "  Why,  that  wasn't  Shmool  at  all,"  Milly  forgot  herself  so  far 
as  to  say,  "  that  was  Block  the  Baker." 

"  Of  course!  "  said  Malka  in  her  most  acid  tone.  '^^  My  kinder 
always  know  better  than  me." 

There  was  a  moment  of  painful  silence.  Malka's  eye  mechan- 
ically sought  the  clothes-brush.  Then  Ezekiel  sneezed.  It  was 
a  convulsive  "'  atichoo,"  and  agitated  the  infant  to  its  most  inti- 
mate flannel-roll. 

"  For  thy  Salvation  do  I  hope,  O  Lord,"  murmured  Malka, 
piously,  adding  triumphantly  aloud,  "  There !  the  kind  has  sneezed 
to  the  truth  of  it.     I  knew  I  was  right." 

The  sneeze  of  an  innocent  child  silences  everybody  who  is  not 
a  blasphemer.  In  the  general  satisfaction  at  the  unexpected 
solution  of  the  situation,  no  one  even  pointed  out  that  the  actual 
statement  to  which  Ezekiel  had  borne  testimony,  was  an  asser- 
tion of  the  superior  knowledge  of  Malka's  children.  Shortly 
afterwards  the  company  trooped  downstairs  to  partake  of  high 
tea,  which  in  the  Ghetto  need  not  include  anything  more  fleshly 
than  fish.  Fish  was,  indeed,  the  staple  of  the  meal.  Fried  fish, 
and  such  fried  fish!  Only  a  great  poet  could  sing  the  praises  of 
the  national  dish,  and  the  golden  age  of  Hebrew  poetry  is  over. 
Strange  that  Gebirol  should  have  lived  and  died  without  the 
opportunity  of  the  theme,  and  that  the  great  Jehuda  Halevi  him- 
self should  have  had  to  devote  his  genius  merely  to  singing  the 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  SON  AND  DAUGHTER.     57 

glories  of  Jerusalem.  "  Israel  is  among  the  other  nations,"  he 
sang,  ''as  the  heart  among  the  limbs.'"  Even  so  is  the  fried  fish 
of  Judcea  to  the  fried  fish  of  Christendom  and  Heathendom. 
With  the  audacity  of  true  culinary  genius,  Jewish  fried  fish  is 
always  served  cold.  The  skin  is  a  beautiful  brown,  the  substance 
firm  and  succulent.  The  very  bones  thereof  are  full  of  marrow, 
yea  and  charged  with  memories  of  the  happy  past.  Fried  fish 
binds  Anglo-Judaea  more  than  all  the  lip-professions  of  unity. 
Its  savor  is  early  known  of  youth,  and  the  divine  flavor,  endeared 
by  a  thousand  childish  recollections,  entwined  with  the  most 
sacred  associations,  draws  back  the  hoary  sinner  into  the  paths 
of  piety.  It  is  on  fried  fish,  mayhap,  that  the  Jewish  matron 
grows  fat.  In  the  days  of  the  Messiah,  when  the  saints  shall 
feed  off  the  Leviathan ;  and  the  Sea  Serpent  shall  be  dished  up 
for  the  last  time,  and  the  world  and  the  silly  season  shall  come 
to  an  end,  in  those  days  it  is  probable  that  the  saints  will  prefer 
their  Leviathan  fried.  Not  that  any  physical  frying  will  be 
necessary,  for  in  those  happy  times  (for  whose  coming  every 
faithful  Israelite  prays  three  times  a  day),  the  Leviathan  will  have 
what  taste  the  eater  will.  Possibly  a  few  highly  respectable 
saints,  who  were  fashionable  in  their  day  and  contrived  to  live  in 
Kensington  without  infection  of  paganism,  will  take  their  Levia- 
than in  conventional  courses,  and  beginning  with  hors  cfa'uvres 
may  will  him  everything  by  turns  and  nothing  long ;  making 
him  soup  and  sweets,  joint  and  entree,  and  even  ices  and  cofl"ee, 
for  in  the  millennium  the  harassing  prohibition  which  bars  cream 
after  meat  will  fall  through.  But,  however  this  be,  it  is  beyond 
question  that  the  bulk  of  the  faithful  will  mentally  fry  him,  and 
though  the  Christian  saints,  who  shall  be  privileged  to  wait  at 
table,  hand  them  plate  after  plate,  fried  fish  shall  be  all  the  fare. 
One  suspects  that  Hebrews  gained  the  taste  in  the  Desert  of 
Sinai,  for  the  manna  that  fell  there  was  not  monotonous  to  the 
palate  as  the  sciolist  supposes,  but  likewise  mutable  under  voli- 
tion. It  were  incredible  that  Moses,  who  gave  so  many  imperish- 
able things  to  his  people,  did  not  also  give  them  the  knowledge 
of  fried  fish,  so  that  they  might  obey  his  behest,  and  rejoice 
before  the  Lord.     Nay,  was  it  not  because,  while  the  manna  fell, 


58  CHILDREN  OF    THE    GHETTO. 

there  could  be  no  lack  of  fish  to  fry,  that  they  lingered  forty 
years  in  a  dreary  wilderness?  Other  delicious  things  there  are 
in  Jewish  cookery  —  Lockschen,  which  are  the  apotheosis  of 
vermicelli,  Ferfel,  which  are  Lockschen  in  an  atomic  state,  and 
Creplick,  which  are  triangular  meat-pasties,  and  Kuggol,  to  which 
pudding  has  a  far-away  resemblance ;  and  there  is  even  gefilllte 
Fisch,  which  is  stuffed  fish  without  bones  —  but  fried  fish  reigns 
above  all  in  cold,  unquestioned  sovereignty.  No  other  people 
possesses  the  recipe.  As  a  poet  of  the  commencement  of  the 
century  sings : 

The  Christians  are  ninnies,  they  can't  fry  Dutch  plaice, 
Believe  me,  they  can't  tell  a  carp  from  a  dace. 

It  was  while  discussing  a  deliciously  brown  oblong  of  the 
Dutch  plaice  of  the  ballad  that  Samuel  Levine  appeared  to  be 
struck  by  an  idea.  He  threw  down  his  knife  and  fork  and 
exclaimed  in  Hebrew.     '-'' Sheinah  benil'''' 

Every  one  looked  at  him. 

"Hear,  my  son!"  he  repeated  in  comic  horror.  Then  relaps- 
ing into  English,  he  explained.  "  IVe  forgotten  to  give  Leah 
a  present  from  her  chosany 

"A-h-h!"  Everybody  gave  a  sigh  of  deep  interest;  Leah, 
whom  the  exigencies  of  service  had  removed  from  his  side  to 
the  head  of  the  table,  half-rose  from  her  seat  in  excitement. 

Now,  whether  Samuel  Levine  had  really  forgotten,  or  whether 
he  had  chosen  the  most  effective  moment  will  never  be  known ; 
certain  it  is  that  the  Semitic  instinct  for  drama  was  gratified 
within  him  as  he  drew  a  little  folded  white  paper  out  of  his 
waistcoat  pocket,  amid  the  keen  expectation  of  the  com- 
pany. 

"  This,"  said  he,  tapping  the  paper  as  if  he  were  a  conjurer, 
"was  purchased  by  me  yesterday  morning  for  my  little  girl. 
I  said  to  myself,  says  I,  look  here,  old  man,  you've  got  to  go 
up  to  town  for  a  day  in  honor  of  Ezekiel  Phillips,  and  your  poor 
girl,  who  had  looked  forward  to  your  staying  away  till  Pass- 
over, will  want  some  compensation  for  her  disappointment  at 
seeing   you  earlier.     So  I  thinks  to  myself,  thinks  I,  now  what 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  SON  AND  DAUGHTER.     59 

is  there  that  Leah  would  hke?  It  must  be  something  appro- 
priate, of  course,  and  it  mustn't  be  of  any  value,  because  I 
can't  afford  it.  It's  a  ruinous  business  getting  engaged ;  the 
worst  bit  of  business  I  ever  did  in  all  my  born  days."'  Here 
Sam  winked  facetiously  at  the  company.  "And  1  thought  and 
thought  of  what  was  the  cheapest  thing  I  could  get  out  of  it 
with,  and  lo  and  behold  I  suddenly  thought  of  a  ring." 

So  saying,  Sam,  still  with  the  same  dramatic  air,  unwrapped 
the  thick  gold  ring  and  held  it  up  so  that  the  huge  diamond 
in  it  sparkled  in  the  sight  of  all.  A  long  '•  O — h — h"  went 
round  the  company,  the  majority  instantaneously  pricing  it 
mentally,  and  wondering  at  what  reduction  Sam  had  acquired 
it  from  a  brother  commercial.  For  that  no  Jew  ever  pays 
full  retail  price  for  jewelry  is  regarded  as  axiomatic.  Even  the 
engagement  ring  is  not  required  to  be  first-hand  —  or  should 
it  be  first-finger?  —  so  long  as  it  is  solid  ;  which  perhaps  accounts 
for  the  superiority  of  the  Jewish  marriage-rate.  Leah  rose 
entirely  to  her  feet,  the  light  of  tlie  diamond  reflected  in  her 
eager  eyes.  She  leant  across  the  table,  stretching  out  a  finger 
to  receive  her  lover's  gift.  Sam  put  the  ring  near  her  finger, 
then  drew  it  away  teasingly. 

"  Them  as  asks  shan't  have,"  he  said,  in  high  good  humor. 
"  You're  too  greedy.  Look  at  the  number  of  rings  you've  got 
already."  The  fun  of  the  situation  diffused  itself  along  the 
table. 

"  Give  it  me,"  laughed  Miriam  Hyams,  stretching  out  her 
finger.     "  I'll  say  '  ta  '  so  nicely." 

'^  No,"  he  said,  "  you've  been  naughty ;  I'm  going  to  give  it 
to  the  little  girl  who  has  sat  quiet  all  the  time.  Miss  Hannah 
Jacobs,  rise  to  receive  your  prize." 

Hannah,  who  was  sitting  two  places  to  the  left  of  him,  smiled 
quietly,  but  went  on  carving  her  fish.  Sam,  growing  quite  bois- 
terous under  the  appreciation  of  a  visibly  amused  audience, 
leaned  towards  her,  captured  her  right  hand,  and  forcibly 
adjusted  the  ring  on  the  second  finger,  exclaiming  in  Hebrew, 
with  mock  solemnity,  "  Behold,  thou  art  consecrated  unto  me  by 
this  ring  according  to  the  Law  of  Moses  and  Israel." 


60  CHILDREN  OF  THE    GHETTO. 

It  was  the  formal  marriage  speech  he  had  learnt  up  for  his 
approaching  marriage.  The  company  roared  with  laughter, 
and  pleasure  and  enjoyment  of  the  fun  made  Leah's  lovely, 
smiling  cheeks  flush  to  a  livelier  crimson.  Badinage  flew  about 
from  one  end  of  the  table  to  the  other ;  burlesque  congratula- 
tions were  showered  on  the  couple,  flowing  over  even  unto  Mrs. 
Jacobs,  who  appeared  to  enjoy  the  episode  as  much  as  if  her 
daughter  were  really  off"  her  hands.  The  little  incident  added 
the  last  touch  of  high  spirits  to  the  company  and  extorted 
all  their  latent  humor.  Samuel  excelled  himself  in  vivacious 
repartee,  and  responded  comically  to  the  toast  of  his  health  as 
drunk  in  coffee.  Suddenly,  amid  the  hubbub  of  chaff  and 
laughter  and  the  clatter  of  cutlery,  a  still  small  voice  made 
itself  heard.  It  same  from  old  Hyams,  who  had  been  sitting 
quietly  with  brow  corrugated  under  his  black  velvet  koppel. 

"  Mr.  Levine,"  he  said,  in  low  grave  tones,  "  I  have  been 
thinking,  and  I  am  afraid  that  what  you  have  done  is  serious." 

The  earnestness  of  his  tones  arrested  the  attention  of  the 
company.     The  laughter  ceased. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  '^  said  Samuel.  He  understood  the 
Yiddish  which  old  Hyams  almost  invariably  used,  though  he 
did  not  speak  it  himself.  Contrariwise,  old  Hyams  understood 
much  more  English  than  he  spoke. 

''  You  have  married  Hannah  Jacobs.'" 

There  was  a  painful  silence,  dim  recollections  surging  in 
everybody's  brain. 

"Married  Hannah  Jacobs!  "  repeated  Samuel  incredulously. 

"  Yes,''  affirmed  old  Hyams.  "  What  you  have  done  consti- 
tutes a  marriage  according  to  Jewish  law.  You  have  pledged 
yourself  to  her  in  the  presence  of  two  witnesses." 

There  was  another  tense  silence.  Samuel  broke  it  with  a 
boisterous  laugh. 

"  No,  no,  old  fellow,"  he  said  ;  "  you  don't  have  me  like  that!  " 

The  tension  was  relaxed.  Everybody  joined  in  the  laugh 
with  a  feeling  of  indescribable  relief.  Facetious  old  Hyams 
had  gone  near  scoring  one.  Hannah  smilingly  plucked  off  the 
glittering  bauble  from  her  finger  and  slid  it  on  to  Leah's.     Hy- 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  SON  AND  DAUGHTER.     61 

ams  alone  remained  grave.  "Laugh  away!"  he  said.  "You 
will  soon  find  I  am  right.     Such  is  our  law." 

"May  be,"  said  Samuel,  constrained  to  seriousness  despite 
himself.     "  But  you  forget  that  I  am  already  engaged  to  Leah." 

"  I  do  not  forget  it,"  replied  Hyams,  '•  but  it  has  nothing  to 
do  with  the  case.  You  are  both  single,  or  rather  you  were  both 
single,  for  now  you  are  man  and  wife." 

Leah,  who  had  been  sitting  pale  and  agitated,  burst  into  tears. 
Hannah's  face  was  drawn  and  white.  Her  mother  looked  the 
least  alarmed  of  the  company. 

"Droll  person!"  cried  Malka,  addressing  Sam  angrily  in  jar- 
gon.    "What  hast  thou  done?  " 

"  Don't  let  us  all  go  mad,"  said  Samuel,  bewildered.  "  How 
can  a  piece  of  fun,  a  joke,  be  a  valid  marriage? " 

"  The  law  takes  no  account  of  jokes,"  said  old  Hyams  solemnly. 

"Then  why  didn't  you  stop  me?"  asked  Sam,  exasperated. 

"  It  was  all  done  in  a  moment.  I  laughed  myseM";  I  had  no 
time  to  think." 

Sam  brought  his  fist  down  on  the  table  with  a  bang. 

"  Well,  ril  never  believe  this!     If  this  is  Judaism !  " 

"  Hush !  "  said  Malka  angrily.  "  These  are  your  English  Jews, 
who  make  mock  of  holy  things.  I  always  said  the  son  of  a  pros- 
elyte was " 

"  Look  here,  mother,"  put  in  Michael  soothingly.  "  Don't  let 
us  make  a  fuss  before  we  know  the  truth.  Send  for  some  one 
who  is  likely  to  know."  He  played  agitatedly  with  his  complex 
pocket-knife. 

"  Yes,  Hannah's  father,  Reb  Shemuel  is  just  the  man,"  cried 
Milly  Phillips. 

"  I  told  you  my  husband  was  gone  to  Manchester  for  a  day  or 
two,"  Mrs.  Jacobs  reminded  her. 

"  There's  the  Maggid  of  the  Sons  of  the  Covenant,"  said  one 
of  the  company.     "  Fll  go  and  fetch  him." 

The  stooping,  black-bearded  Maggid  was  brought.  When 
he  arrived,  it  was  evident  from  his  look  that  he  knew  all  and 
brought  confirmation  of  their  worst  fears.  He  explained  the  law 
at  great  length,  and  cited  precedent  upon  precedent.     When  he 


62  CHILDREN   OF  THE    GHETTO. 

ceased,  Leah's  sobs  alone  broke  the  silence.  SamuePs  face  was 
white.  The  merry  gathering  had  been  turned  to  a  wedding 
party. 

"You  rogue!  "burst  forth  Malka  at  last.  "You  planned  all 
this  —  you  thought  my  Leah  didn't  have  enough  money,  and 
that  Reb  Shemuel  will  heap  you  up  gold  in  the  hands.  But  you 
don't  take  me  in  like  this." 

"  May  this  piece  of  bread  choke  me  if  I  had  the  slightest  iota 
of  intention!"  cried  Samuel  passionately,  for  the  thought  of  what 
Leah  might  think  was  like  fire  in  his  veins.  He  turned  appeal- 
ingly  to  the  Maggid ;  "  but  there  must  be  some  way  out  of  this, 
surely  there  must  be  some  way  out.  I  know  you  Maggidivi 
can  split  hairs.  Can't  you  make  one  of  your  clever  distinctions 
even  when  there's  more  than  a  trifle  concerned?"  There  was 
a  savage  impatience  about  the  bridegroom  which  boded  ill  for 
the  Law. 

"  Of  course  there's  a  way  out,"  said  the  Maggid  calmly. 
"  Only  one  way,  but  a  very  broad  and  simple  one." 

"What's  that?"  everybody  asked  breathlessly. 

"  He  must  give  her  Gett ! " 

"Of  course!"  shouted  Sam  in  a  voice  of  thunder.  "I 
divorce  her  at  once."  He  guffawed  hysterically  ;  "  What  a  pack 
of  fools  we  are!     Good  old  Jewish  law!  " 

Leah's  sobs  ceased.  Everybody  except  Mrs.  Jacobs  was 
smiling  once  more.  Half  a  dozen  hands  grasped  the  Maggid'^s  ; 
half  a  dozen  others  thumped  him  on  the  back.  He  was  pushed 
into  a  chair.  They  gave  him  a  glass  of  brandy,  they  heaped  a 
plate  with  fried  fish.  Verily  the  Maggid,  who  was  in  truth  sore 
ahungered,  was  in  luck's  way.  He  blessed  Providence  and  the 
Jewish  Marriage  Law. 

"  But  you  had  better  not  reckon  that  a  divorce,"  he  warned 
them  between  two  mouthfuls.  "  You  had  better  go  to  Reb 
Shemuel,  the  maiden's  father,  and  let  him  arrange  the  Gett 
beyond  reach  of  cavil." 

"  But  Reb  Shemuel  is  away,"  said  Mrs.  Jacobs. 

"And  I  must  go  away,  too,  by  the  first  train  to-morrow,"  said 
Sam.     "  However,  there's  no  hurry.     I'll  arrange  to  run  up  to 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  SON  AND  DAUGHTER.     63 

town  again  in  a  fortnight  or  so,  and  then  Reb  Shemuel  shall  see 
that  we  are  properly  untied.  You  don't  mind  being  my  wife  for 
a  fortnight,  I  hope,  Miss  Jacobs?"  asked  Sam,  winking  gleefully 
at  Leah.  She  smiled  back  at  him  and  they  laughed  together 
over  the  danger  they  had  just  escaped.  Hannah  laughed  too, 
in  contemptuous  amusement  at  the  rigidity  of  Jewish  Law. 

'•  ril  tell  you  what,  Sam,  can't  you  come  back  for  next  Satur- 
day week? "  said  Leah. 

"  Why  ? "  asked  Sam.     "  What's  on ?  " 

'■"  The  Purim  Ball  at  the  Club.  As  you've  got  to  come  back  to 
give  Hannah  Gett,  you  might  as  well  come  in  time  to  take  me  to 
the  ball." 

"  Right  you  are,"  said  Sam  cheerfully. 

Leah  clapped  her  hands.  "  Oh  that  will  be  jolly,"  she  said. 
"And  we'll  take  Hannah  with  us,"  she  added  as  an  after- 
thought. 

"Is  that  by  way  of  compensation  for  losing  my  husband?" 
Hannah  asked  with  a  smile. 

Leah  gave  a  happy  laugh,  and  turned  the  new  ring  on  her  fin- 
ger in  delighted  contemplation. 

"All's  well  that  ends  well,"  said  Sam.  "Through  this  joke 
Leah  will  be  the  belle  of  the  Purim  Ball.  I  think  I  deserve 
another  piece  of  plaice,  Leah,  for  that  compliment.  As  for  you, 
Mr.  Maggid,  you're  a  saint  and  a  Talmud  sage!  " 

The  MaggiiVs  face  was  brightened  by  a  smile.  He  intoned 
the  grace  with  unction  when  the  meal  ended,  and  everybody 
joined  in  heartily  at  the  specifically  vocal  portions.  Then  the 
Maggid  left,  and  the  cards  were  brought  out. 

It  is  inadvisable  to  play  cards  before  fried  fish,  because  it  is 
well  known  that  you  may  lose,  and  losing  may  ruffle  your  tem- 
per, and  you  may  call  your  partner  an  ass  or  your  partner  may 
call  you  an  ass.  To-night  the  greatest  good  humor  prevailed, 
though  several  pounds  changed  hands.  They  played  Loo, 
"  Klobbiyos,"  Napoleon,  Vingt-et-un,  and  especially  Brag. 
Solo  whist  had  not  yet  come  in  to  drive  everything  else  out. 
Old  Hyams  did  not  spiel,  because  he  could  not  afford  to,  and 
Hannah  Jacobs  because  she  did  not  care  to.     These  and  a  few 


64  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

other  guests  left  early.  But  the  family  party  stayed  late.  On  a 
warm  green  table,  under  a  cheerful  gas  light,  with  brandy  and 
whiskey  and  sweets  and  fruit  to  hand,  with  no  trains  or  busses 
to  catch,  what  wonder  if  the  light-hearted  assembly  played  far 
into  the  new  day? 

Meanwhile  the  Redeemed  Son  slept  peacefully  in  his  crib  with 
his  legs  curled  up,  and  his  little  fists  clenched  beneath  the 
coverlet. 

CHAPTER   V. 

THE    PAUPER    ALIEN. 

Moses  Ansell  married  mainly  because  all  men  are  mortal. 
He  knew  he  would  die  and  he  wanted  an  heir.  Not  to  in- 
herit anything,  but  to  say  Kaddish  for  him.  Kaddish  is  the 
most  beautiful  and  wonderful  mourning  prayer  ever  written. 
Rigidly  excluding  all  references  to  death  and  grief,  it  exhausts 
itself  in  supreme  glorification  of  the  Eternal  and  in  supplication 
for  peace  upon  the  House  of  Israel.  But  its  significance  has 
been  gradually  transformed ;  human  nature,  driven  away  with  a 
pitchfork,  has  avenged  itself  by  regarding  the  prayer  as  a  mass, 
not  without  purgatorial  efficacy,  and  so  the  Jew  is  reluctant  to 
die  without  leaving  some  one  qualified  to  say  Kaddish  after  him 
every  day  for  a  year,  and  then  one  day  a  year.  That  is  one 
reason  why  sons  are  of  such  domestic  importance. 

Moses  had  only  a  mother  in  the  world  when  he  married  Gittel 
Silverstein,  and  he  hoped  to  restore  the  balance  of  male  relatives 
by  this  reckless  measure.  The  result  was  six  children,  three 
girls  and  three  Kaddishwi.  In  Gittel,  Moses  found  a  tireless 
helpmate.  During  her  lifetime  the  family  always  lived  in  two 
rooms,  for  she  had  various  ways  of  supplementing  the  household 
income.  When  in  London  she  chared  for  her  cousin  Malka  at 
a  shilling  a  day.  Likewise  she  sewed  underlinen  and  stitched 
slips  of  fur  into  caps  in  the  privacy  of  home  and  midnight.  For 
all  Mrs.  AnselFs  industry,  the  family  had  been  a  typical  group  of 
wandering  Jews,  straying  from  town  to  town  in  search  of  better 
things.     The  congregation  they  left   (every  town  which  could 


THE  PAUPER  ALIEN.  65 

muster  the  minimum  of  ten  men  for  worship  boasted  its  KehillaJi) 
invariably  paid  their  fare  to  the  next  congregation,  glad  to  get 
rid  of  them  so  cheaply,  and  the  new  Kehillah  jumped  at  the 
opportunity  of  gratifying  their  restless- migratory  instinct  and 
sent  them  to  a  newer.  Thus  were  they  tossed  about  on  the 
battledores  of  philanthropy,  often  reverting  to  their  starting- 
point,  to  the  disgust  of  the  charitable  committees.  Yet  Moses 
always  made  loyal  efforts  to  find  work.  His  versatility  was  mar- 
vellous. There  was  nothing  he  could  not  do  badly.  He  had 
been  glazier,  synagogue  beadle,  picture-frame  manufacturer, 
cantor,  peddler,  shoemaker  in  all  branches,  coat-seller,  official 
executioner  of  fowls  and  cattle,  Hebrew  teacher,  fruiterer,  cir- 
cumciser,  professional  corpse-watcher,  and  now  he  was  a  tailor 
out  of  work. 

Unquestionably  Malka  was  right  in  considering  Moses  a 
Schleinihl  in  comparison  with  many  a  fellow-immigrant,  who 
brought  indefatigable  hand  and  subtle  brain  to  the  struggle  for 
existence,  and  discarded  the  prop  of  charity  as  soon  as  he  could, 
and  sometimes  earlier. 

It  was  as  a  hawker  that  he  believed  himself  most  gifted,  and 
he  never  lost  the  conviction  that  if  he  could  only  get  a  fair  start, 
he  had  in  him  the  makings  of  a  millionaire.  Yet  there  was 
scarcely  anything  cheap  with  which  he  had  not  tramped  the 
country,  so  that  when  poor  Benjamin,  who  profited  by  his 
mother's  death  to  get  into  the  Orphan  Asylum,  was  asked  to 
write  a  piece  of  composition  on  *'  The  Methods  of  Travelling," 
he  excited  the  hilarity  of  the  class-room  by  writing  that  there 
were  numerous  ways  of  travelling,  for  you  could  travel  with 
sponge,  lemons,  rhubarb,  old  clothes,  jewelry,  and  so  on,  for  a 
page  of  a  copy  book.  Benjamin  was  a  brilliant  boy,  yet  he 
never  shook  off  some  of  the  misleading  associations  engendered 
by  the  parental  jargon.  For  Mrs.  Ansell  had  diversified  her 
corrupt  German  by  streaks  of  incorrect  English,  being  of  a  much 
more  energetic  and  ambitious  temperament  than  the  conserva- 
tive Moses,  who  dropped  nearly  all  his  burden  of  English  into 
her  grave.  For  Benjamin,  "  to  travel  "  meant  to  wander  about 
selling  goods,  and  when  in  his  books  he  read  of  African  trav- 


66  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

ellers,  he  took  it  for  granted  that  they  were  but  exploiting  the 
Dark  Continent  for  small  profits  and  quick  returns. 

And  who  knows  ?  Perhaps  of  the  two  species,  it  was  the  old 
Jewish  peddlers  who  suffered  the  more  and  made  the  less  profit 
on  the  average.  For  the  despised  three-hatted  scarecrow  of 
Christian  caricature,  who  shambled  along  snuffling  "  Old  cloV' 
had  a  strenuous  inner  life,  which  might  possibly  have  vied  in 
intensity,  elevation,  and  even  sense  of  humor,  with  that  of  the 
best  of  the  jeerers  on  the  highway.  To  Moses,  "travelling" 
meant  straying  forlornly  in  strange  towns  and  villages,  given 
over  to  the  worship  of  an  alien  deity  and  ever  ready  to  avenge 
his  crucifixion  ;  in  a  land  of  whose  tongue  he  knew  scarce  more 
than  the  Saracen  damsel  married  by  legend  to  a  Becket's  father. 
It  meant  praying  brazenly  in  crowded  railway  trains,  winding  the 
phylacteries  sevenfold  round  his  left  arm  and  crowning  his  fore- 
head with  a  huge  leather  bump  of  righteousness,  to  the  bewilder- 
ment or  irritation  of  unsympathetic  fellow-passengers.  It  meant 
living  chiefly  on  dry  bread  and  drinking  black  tea  out  of  his 
own  cup,  with  meat  and  fish  and  the  good  things  of  life  utterly 
banned  by  the  traditional  law,  even  if  he  were  flush.  It  meant 
carrying  the  red  rag  of  an  obnoxious  personality  through  a  land 
of  bulls.  It  meant  passing  months  away  from  wife  and  children, 
in  a  solitude  only  occasionally  alleviated  by  a  Sabbath  spent  in 
a  synagogue  town.  It  meant  putting  up  at  low  public  houses 
and  common  lodging  houses,  where  rowdy  disciples  of  the  Prince 
of  Peace  often  sent  him  bleeding  to  bed,  or  shamelessly  despoiled 
him  of  his  merchandise,  or  bullied  and  blustered  him  out  of  his 
fair  price,  knowing  he  dared  not  resent.  It  meant  being  chaffed 
and  gibed  at  in  language  of  which  he  only  understood  that  it 
was  cruel,  though  certain  trite  facetiae  grew  intelligible  to  him  by 
repetition.  Thus  once,  when  he  had  been  interrogated  as  to  the 
locality  of  Moses  when  the  light  went  out,  he  replied  in  Yiddish 
that  the  light  could  not  go  out,  for  "'  it  stands  in  the  verse,  that 
round  the  head  of  Moses,  our  teacher,  the  great  law-giver,  was  a 
perpetual  halo."  An  old  German  happened  to  be  smoking  at 
the  bar  of  the  public  house  when  the  peddler  gave  his  acute 
answer ;  he  laughed  heartily,  slapped  the  Jew  on  the  back  and 


THE  PAUPER  ALIEN.  67 

translated  the  repartee  to  the  convivial  crew.  For  once  intellect 
told,  and  the  rough  drinkers,  with  a  pang  of  shame,  vied  with 
one  another  in  pressing  bitter  beer  upon  the  temperate  Semite. 
But,  as  a  rule,  Moses  Ansell  drank  the  cup  of  affliction  instead 
of  hospitality  and  bore  his  share  to  the  full,  without  the  remot- 
est intention  of  being  heroic,  in  the  long  agony  of  his  race, 
doomed  to  be  a  byword  and  a  mockery  amongst  the  heathen. 
Assuredly,  to  die  for  a  religion  is  easier  than  to  live  for  it.  Yet 
Moses  never  complained  nor  lost  faith.  To  be  spat  upon  was 
the  very  condition  of  existence  of  the  modern  Jew,  deprived  of 
Palestine  and  his  Temple,  a  footsore  mendicant,  buffeted  and 
reviled,  yet  the  dearer  to  the  Lord  God  who  had  chosen  him 
from  the  nations.  Bullies  might  break  Moses's  head  in  this 
world,  but  in  the  next  he  would  sit  on  a  gold  chair  in  Paradise 
among  the  saints  and  sing  exegetical  acrostics  to  all  eternity. 
It  was  some  dim  perception  of  these  things  that  made  Esther 
forgive  her  father  when  the  Ansells  waited  weeks  and  weeks  for 
a  postal  order  and  landlords  were  threatening  to  bundle  them 
out  neck  and  crop,  and  her  mothers  hands  were  worn  to  the 
bone  slaving  for  her  little  ones. 

Things  improved  a  little  just  before  the  mother  died,  for  they 
had  settled  down  in  London  and  Moses  earned  eighteen  shil- 
lings a  week  as  a  machinist  and  presser,  and  no  longer  roamed 
the  country.  But  the  interval  of  happiness  was  brief.  The 
grandmother,  imported  from  Poland,  did  not  take  kindly  to  her 
son's  wife,  whom  she  found  wanting  in  the  minutiae  of  ceremonial 
piety  and  godless  enough  to  wear  her  own  hair.  There  had 
been,  indeed,  a  note  of  scepticism,  of  defiance,  in  Esther's 
mother,  a  hankering  after  the  customs  of  the  heathen,  which  her 
grandmother  divined  instinctively  and  resented  for  the  sake  of 
her  son  and  the  post-mundane  existence  of  her  grandchildren. 
Mrs.  Ansell's  scepticism  based  itself  upon  the  uncleanliness 
which  was  so  generally  next  to  godliness  in  the  pious  circles 
round  them,  and  she  had  been  heard  to  express  contempt  for  the 
learned  and  venerable  Israelite,  who,  being  accosted  by  an  ac- 
quaintance when  the  shadows  of  eve  were  beginning  to  usher  in 
the  Day  of  Atonement,  exclaimed  : 


68  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

"  For  heaven's  sake,  don't  stop  me  —  I  missed  my  bath  last 
year." 

Mrs.  Ansell  bathed  her  children  from  head  to  foot  once  a 
month,  and  even  profanely  washed  them  on  the  Sabbath,  and 
had  other  strange,  uncanny  notions.  She  professed  not  to  see 
the  value  to  God,  man  or  beast  of  the  learned  Rabbonim,  who 
sat  shaking  themselves  all  day  in  the  Beth  Haviidrash.,  and  said 
they  would  be  better  occupied  in  supporting  their  families,  a  view 
which,  though  mere  surface  blasphemy  on  the  part  of  the  good 
woman  and  primarily  intended  as  a  hint  to  Moses  to  study  less 
and  work  longer,  did  not  fail  to  excite  lively  passages  of  arms 
between  the  two  women.  But  death  ended  these  bickerings  and 
the  Bube^  who  had  frequently  reproached  her  son  for  bringing 
her  into  such  an  atheistic  country,  was  left  a  drag  the  more  upon 
the  family  deprived  at  once  of  a  mother  and  a  bread-winner. 
Old  Mrs.  Ansell  was  unfit  for  anything  save  gnmibling,  and  so 
the  headship  naturally  devolved  upon  Esther,  whom  her  mother's 
death  left  a  woman  gettinor  on  for  eiijht.  The  commencement  of 
har  reign  coincided  with  a  sad  bisection  of  territory.  Shocking 
as  it  may  be  to  better  regulated  minds,  these  seven  people  lived 
in  one  room.  Moses  and  the  two  boys  slept  in  one  bed  and  the 
grandmother  and  the  three  girls  in  another.  Esther  had  to  sleep 
with  her  head  on  a  supplementary  pillow  at  the  foot  of  the  bed. 
But  there  can  be  much  love  in  a  little  room. 

The  room  was  not,  however,  so  very  little,  for  it  was  of  un- 
gainly sprawling  structure,  pushing  out  an  odd  limb  that  might 
have  been  cut  off  with  a  curtain.  The  walls  nodded  fixedly  to 
one  another  so  that  the  ceiling  was  only  half  the  size  of  the  floor. 
The  furniture  comprised  but  the  commonest  necessities.  This 
attic  of  the  Ansells  was  nearer  heaven  than  most  earthly  dwell- 
ing places,  for  there  were  four  tall  flights  of  stairs  to  mount  be- 
fore you  got  to  it.  No.  i  Royal  Street  had  been  in  its  time  one 
of  the  great  mansions  of  the  Ghetto;  pillars  of  the  synagogue 
had  quaffed  kosJicr  wine  in  its  spacious  reception  rooms  and  its 
corridors  had  echoed  witli  the  gossip  of  portly  dames  in  stiff  bro- 
cades. It  was  stoutly  built  and  its  balusters  were  of  carved  oak. 
But  now  the  threshold  of  the  great  street  door,  which  was  never 


THE  PAUPER  ALIEN.  69 

closed,  was  encrusted  with  black  mud,  and  a  musty  odor  perma- 
nently clung  to  the  wide  staircase  and  blent  subtly  with  far- 
away reminiscences  of  Mr.  Belcovitch's  festive  turpentine.  The 
Ansells  had  numerous  housemates,  for  No.  i  Royal  Street  was  a 
Jewish  colony  in  itself  and  the  resident  population  was  periodi- 
cally swollen  by  the  "  hands  '^  of  the  Belcovitches  and  by  the 
"  Sons  of  the  Covenant,"  who  came  to  worship  at  their  syna- 
gogue on  the  ground  floor.  What  with  Sugarman  the  Shadchan, 
on  the  first  floor,  Mrs.  Simons  and  Dutch  Debby  on  the  second, 
the  Belcovitches  on  the  third,  and  the  Ansells  and  Gabriel  Ham- 
burg, the  great  scholar,  on  the  fourth,  the  door-posts  twinkled 
with  Meziizahs  —  cases  or  cylinders  containing  sacred  script 
with  the  word  Shaddai  (Almighty)  peering  out  of  a  little  glass 
eye  at  the  centre.  Even  Dutch  Debby,  abandoned  wretch  as 
she  was,  had  this  protection  against  evil  spirits  (so  it  has  come 
to  be  regarded)  on  her  lintel,  though  she  probably  never  touched 
the  eye  with  her  finger  to  kiss  the  place  of  contact  after  the 
manner  of  the  faithful. 

Thus  was  No.  i  Royal  Street  close  packed  with  the  stuff  of 
human  life,  homespun  and  drab  enough,  but  not  altogether  prof- 
itless, may  be,  to  turn  over  and  examine.  So  close  packed  was 
it  that  there  was  scarce  breathing  space.  It  was  only  at  imme- 
morial intervals  that  our  pauper  alien  made  a  pun,  but  one  day  he 
flashed  upon  the  world  the  pregnant  remark  that  England  was 
well  named,  for  to  the  Jew  it  was  verily  the  Enge-Land,  which 
in  German  signifies  the  country  without  elbow  room.  Moses 
Ansell  chuckled  softly  and  beatifically  when  he  emitted  the 
remark  that  surprised  all  who  knew  him.  But  then  it  was  the 
Rejoicing  of  the  Law  and  the  Sons  of  the  Covenant  had  treated 
him  to  rum  and  currant  cake.  He  often  thought  of  his  witticism 
afterwards,  and  it  always  lightened  his  unwashed  face  with  a 
happy  smile.  The  recollection  usually  caught  him  when  he  was 
praying. 

For  four  years  after  Mrs.  Ansell's  charity  funeral  the  Ansells, 
though  far  from  happy,  had  no  history  to  speak  of. 

Benjamin  accompanied  Solomon  to  Shool  morning  and  even- 
ing to  say  KaddisJi  for   their   mother   till   he   passed   into   the 


70  CHILDREN  OF  THE    GHETTO. 

Orphan  Asylum  and  out  of  the  lives  of  his  relatives.  Solomon 
and  Rachel  and  Esther  went  to  the  great  school  and  Isaac  to  the 
infant  school,  while  the  tiny  Sarah,  whose  birth  had  cost  Mrs. 
Ansell's  life,  crawled  and  climbed  about  in  the  garret,  the  grand- 
mother coming  in  negatively  useful  as  a  safeguard  against  fire  on 
the  days  when  the  grate  was  not  empty.  The  Bute's  own  con- 
ception of  her  function  as  a  safeguard  against  fire  was  quite  other. 

Moses  was  out  all  day  working  or  looking  for  work,  or  pray- 
ing or  listening  to  Droshes  by  the  Maggid  or  other  great  preach- 
ers. Such  charities  as  brightened  and  warmed  the  Ghetto 
Moses  usually  came  in  for.  Bread,  meat  and  coal  tickets,  god- 
sends from  the  Society  for  Restoring  the  Soul,  made  odd  days 
memorable.  Blankets  were  not  so  easy  to  get  as  in  the  days  of 
poor  Gittel's  confinements. 

What  little  cooking  there  was  to  do  was  done  by  Esther  before 
or  after  school ;  she  and  her  children  usually  took  their  mid-day 
meal  with  them  in  the  shape  of  bread,  occasionally  made  ambro- 
sial by  treacle.  The  Ansells  had  more  fast  days  than  the  Jewish 
calendar,  which  is  saying  a  good  deal.  Providence,  however, 
generally  stepped  in  before  the  larder  had  been  bare  twenty- 
four  hours. 

As  the  fast  days  of  the  Jewish  calendar  did  not  necessarily 
fall  upon  the  Ansell  fast  days,  they  were  an  additional  tax  on 
Moses  and  his  mother.  Yet  neither  ever  wavered  in  the  scrupu- 
lous observance  of  them,  not  a  crumb  of  bread  nor  a  drop  of 
water  passing  their  lips.  In  the  keen  search  for  facts  detri- 
mental to  the  Ghetto  it  is  surprising  that  no  political  economist 
has  hitherto  exposed  tlie  abundant  fasts  with  which  Israel  has 
been  endowed,  and  which  obviously  operate  as  a  dole  in  aid  of 
wages.  So  does  the  Lenten  period  of  the  "  Three  Weeks,''  when 
meat  is  prohibited  in  memory  of  the  shattered  Temples.  The 
Ansells  kept  the  "Three  Weeks"  pretty  well  all  the  year  round. 
On  rare  occasions  they  purchased  pickled  Dutch  herrings  or 
brought  home  pennyworths  of  pea  soup  or  of  baked  potatoes 
and  rice  from  a  neighboring  cook  shop.  For  Festival  days,  if 
Malka  had  subsidized  them  with  a  half-sovereign,  Esther  some- 
times compounded  Tsifinnus^  a  dainty  blend  of  carrots,  pudding 


THE  PAUPER  ALIEN.  71 

and  potatoes.  She  was  prepared  to  write  an  essay  on  Tzmimus 
as  a  gastronomic  ideal.  There  were  other  pleasing  Polish  com- 
binations which  were  baked  for  twopence  by  the  local  bakers. 
Tabechas^  or  stuffed  entrails,  and  liver,  lights  or  milt  were  good 
substitutes  for  meat.  A  favorite  soup  was  Borsch^  which  was 
made  with  beet-root,  fat  taking  the  place  of  the  more  fashionable 
cream. 

The  national  dish  was  seldom  their  lot ;  when  fried  fish  came 
it  was  usually  from  the  larder  of  Mrs.  Simons,  a  motherly  old 
widow,  who  lived  in  the  second  floor  front,  and  presided  over 
the  confinements  of  all  the  women  and  the  sicknesses  of  all  the 
children  in  the  neighborhood.  Her  married  daughter  Dinah 
was  providentially  suckling  a  black-eyed  boy  when  Mrs.  Ansell 
died,  so  Mrs.  Simons  converted  her  into  a  foster  mother  of 
little  Sarah,  regarding  herself  ever  afterwards  as  under  special 
responsibilities  toward  the  infant,  whom  she  occasionally  took  to 
live  with  her  for  a  week,  and  for  whom  she  saw  heaven  encour- 
aging a  future  alliance  with  the  black-eyed  foster  brother.  Life 
would  have  been  gloomier  still  in  the  Ansell  garret  if  Mrs. 
Simons  had  not  been  created  to  bless  and  sustain.  Even  old 
garments  somehow  arrived  from  Mrs.  Simons  to  eke  out  the 
corduroys  and  the  print  gowns  which  were  the  gift  of  the  school. 
There  were  few  pleasanter  events  in  the  Ansell  household  than 
the  falling  ill  of  one  of  the  children,  for  not  only  did  this  mean  a 
supply  of  broth,  port  wine  and  other  incredible  luxuries  from  the 
charity  doctor  (of  which  all  could  taste),  but  it  brought  in  its 
train  the  assiduous  attendance  of  Mrs.  Simons.  To  see  the 
kindly  brown  face  bending  over  it  with  smiling  eyes  of  jet,  to 
feel  the  soft,  cool  hand  pressed  to  its  forehead,  was  worth  a  fever 
to  a  motherless  infant.  Mrs.  Simons  was  a  busy  woman  and  a 
poor  withal,  and  the  Ansells  were  a  reticent  pack,  not  given  to 
expressing  either  their  love  or  their  hunger  to  outsiders ;  so 
altogether  the  children  did  not  see  so  much  of  Mrs.  Simons  or 
her  bounties  as  they  would  have  liked.  Nevertheless,  in  a  grave 
crisis  she  was  always  to  be  counted  upon. 

"I  tell  thee  what,  Me'she,"  said  old  Mrs.  Ansell  often,  "that 
woman  wants  to  marry  thee.     A  blind  man  could  see  it." 


72-  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

"  She  cannot  want  it,  mother/^  Moses  would  reply  with  infinite 
respect. 

"What  art  thou  saying?  A  wholly  fine  young  man  like  thee," 
said  his  mother,  fondling  his  side  ringlets,  "  and  one  so  froojn, 
too,  and  with  such  worldly  wisdom.  But  thou  must  not  have 
her,  Meshe." 

"  What  kind  of  idea  thou  stuifest  into  my  head!  I  tell  thee 
she  would  not  have  me  if  I  sent  to  ask/'  „^ 

"  Talk  not  thyself  thereinto.  Who  wouldn't  like  to  catch  hold 
of  thy  cloak  to  go  to  heaven  by?  But  Mrs.  Simons  is  too  much 
of  an  Englishwoman  for  me.  Your  last  wife  had  English  ideas 
and  made  mock  of  pious  men  and  God's  judgment  took  her. 
What  says  the  Prayer-book?  For  three  things  a  woman  dies  in 
childbirth,  for  not  separating  the  dough,  for  not  lighting  the  Sab- 
bath lamps  and  for  not  —  " 

"  How  often  have  I  told  thee  she  did  do  all  these  things! "  in- 
terrupted Moses. 

"Dost  thou  contradict  the  Prayer-book?"  said  the  Dube 
angrily.  "  It  would  have  been  different  if  thou  hadst  let  me 
pick  a  woman  for  thee.  But  this  time  thou  wilt  honor  thy 
mother  more.  It  must  be  a  respectable,  virtuous  maiden,  with 
the  fear  of  heaven  —  not  an  old  woman  like  Mrs.  Simons,  but  one 
who  can  bear  me  robust  grandchildren.  The  grandchildren 
thou  hast  given  me  are  sickly,  and  they  fear  not  the  Most  High. 
Ah!  why  did'st  thou  drag  me  to  this  impious  country?  Could'st 
thou  not  let  me  die  in  peace?  Thy  girls  think  more  of  English 
story  books  and  lessons  than  of  Yiddishkcit^  and  the  boys  run 
out  under  the  naked  sky  with  bare  heads  and  are  loth  to  wash 
their  hands  before  meals,  and  they  do  not  come  home  in  the  din- 
ner hour  for  fear  they  should  have  to  say  the  afternoon  prayer. 
Laugh  at  me,  Moses,  as  thou  wilt,  but,  old  as  I  am,  I  have  eyes, 
and  not  two  blotches  of  clay,  in  my  sockets.  Thou  seest  not 
how  thy  family  is  going  to  destruction.    Oh,  the  abominations!  " 

Thus  warned  and  put  on  his  mettle,  Moses  would  keep  a  keen 
look-out  on  his  hopeful  family  for  the  next  day,  and  the  seed 
which  the  grandmother  had  sown  came  up  in  black  and  blue 
bruises  on  the  family  anatomy,  especially  on  that  portion  of  it 


THE  PAUPER  ALIEN.  73 

which  belonged  to  Solomon.  For  Moses's  crumbling  trousers 
were  buckled  with  a  stout  strap,  and  Solomon  was  a  young  rogue 
who  did  his  best  to  dodge  the  Almighty,  and  had  never  heard  of 
Lowell's  warning. 

You've  gut  to  git  up  airly, 
Ef  you  want  to  take  in  God. 

Even  if  he  had  heard  of  it,  he  would  probably  have  retorted  that 
he  usually  got  up  early  enough  to  take  in  his  father,  who  was  the 
more  immediately  terrible  of  the  two.  Nevertheless,  Solomon 
learned  many  lessons  at  his  father's  knee,  or  rather,  across  it. 
In  earlier  days  Solomon  had  had  a  number  of  confidential  trans- 
actions with  his  father's  God,  making  bargains  with  Him  accord- 
ing to  his  childish  sense  of  equity.  If,  for  instance,  God  would 
ensure  his  doing  his  sums  correctly,  so  that  he  should  be  neither 
caned  nor  "  kept  in,"  he  would  say  his  morning  prayers  with- 
out skipping  the  aggravating  Longe  VeracJuun,  which  bulked  so 
largely  on  Mondays  and  Thursdays ;  otherwise  he  could  not  be 
bothered. 

By  the  terms  of  the  contract  Solomon  threw  all  the  initiative 
on  the  Deity,  and  whenever  the  Deity  undertook  his  share  of  the 
contract,  Solomon  honorably  fulfilled  his.  Thus  was  his  faith  in 
Providence  never  shaken  like  that  of  some  boys,  who  expect  the 
Deity  to  follow  their  lead.  Still,  by  declining  to  praise  his  Maker 
at  extraordinary  length,  except  in  acknowledgment  of  services 
rendered,  Solomon  gave  early  evidence  of  his  failure  to  inherit 
his  father's  business  incapacity. 

On  days  when  things  at  the  school  went  well,  no  one  gabbled 
through  the  weary  Prayer-book  more  conscientiously  than  he ; 
he  said  all  the  things  in  large  type  and  all  the  funny  little  bits 
in  small  type,  and  even  some  passages  without  vowels.  Nay,  he 
included  the  very  preface,  and  was  lured  on  and  coaxed  on  and 
enticed  by  his  father  to  recite  the  appendices,  which  shot  up  one 
after  the  other  on  the  devotional  horizon  like  the  endless-seeming 
terraces  of  a  deceptive  ascent ;  just  another  little  bit,  and  now 
that  Httle  bit,  and  just  that  last  bit,  and  one  more  very  last  little 
bit.  It  was  like  the  infinite  inclusiveness  of  a  Chinese  sphere,  or 
the  farewell  performances  of  a  distinguished  singer. 


74  CHILDREN  OF  THE    GHETTO. 

For  the  rest,  Solomon  was  a  Chine-poniin^  or  droll,  having  that 
inextinguishable  sense  of  humor  which  has  made  the  saints  of 
the  Jewish  Church  human,  has  lit  up  dry  technical  Talmudic 
discussions  with  flashes  of  freakish  fun,  with  pun  and  jest  and 
merry  quibble,  and  has  helped  the  race  to  survive  (^pace  Dr. 
Wallace)  by  dint  of  a  humorous  acquiescence  in  the  inevitable. 

His  Chitie  helped  Solomon  to  survive  synagogue,  where  the 
only  drop  of  sweetness  was  in  the  beaker  of  wine  for  the  sanctifi- 
cation  service.  Solomon  was  always  in  the  van  of  the  brave 
boys  who  volunteered  to  take,  part  in  the  ceremonial  quafling  of 
it.  Decidedly,  Solomon  was  not  spiritual,  he  would  not  even  kiss 
a  Hebrew  Pentateuch  that  he  had  dropped,  unless  his  father  was 
looking,  and  but  for  the  personal  supervision  of  the  Bute  the 
dirty  white  fringes  of  his  '*  four-corners ""  might  have  got  tangled 
and  irredeemably  invalidated  for  all  he  cared. 

In  the  direst  need  of  the  Ansells  Solomon  held  his  curly  head 
high  among  his  school-fellows,  and  never  lacked  personal  pos- 
sessions, though  they  were  not  negotiable  at  the  pawnbroker's. 
He  had  a  peep-show,  made  out  of  an  old  cocoa  box.  and  repre- 
senting the  sortie  from  Plevna,  a  permit  to  view  being  obtain- 
able for  a  fragment  of  slate  pencil.  For  two  pins  he  would  let 
you  look  a  whole  minute.  He  also  had  bags  of  brass  buttons, 
marbles,  both  commoners  and  alleys  ;  nibs,  beer  bottle  labels 
and  cherry  "  hogs,''  besides  bottles  of  liquorice  water,  vendible 
either  by  the  sip  or  the  teaspoonful,  and  he  dealt  in  ''assy- 
tassy,"  which  consisted  of  little  packets  of  acetic  acid  blent  with 
brown  sugar.  The  character  of  his  stock  varied  according  to 
the  time  of  year,  for  nature  and  Belgravia  are  less  stable  in  their 
seasons  than  the  Jewish  schoolboy,  to  whom  buttons  in  March 
are  as  inconceivable  as  snow-balling  in  July. 

On  Purim  Solomon  always  had  nuts  to  gamble  with,  just  as  if 
he  had  been  a  banker's  son,  and  on  the  Day  of  Atonement  he  was 
never  without  a  little  tin  fusee  box  filled  with  savings  of  snufF. 
This,  when  the  fast  racked  them  most  sorely,  he  would  pass  round 
among  the  old  men  with  a  grand  manner.  They  would  take  a 
pinch  and  say,  "  May  thy  strength  increase."'  and  blow  their 
delighted  noses  with  great  colored  handerchiefs,  and  Solomon 


''REB''    SHEMUEL.  75 

would  feel  about  fifty  and  sniff  a  few  grains  himself  with  the  air 
of  an  aged  connoisseur. 

He  took  little  interest  in  the  subtle  disquisitions  of  the  Rabbis, 
which  added  their  burden  to  his  cross  of  secular  learning.  He 
wrestled  but  perfunctorily  with  the  theses  of  the  Bible  commen- 
tators, for  Moses  Ansell  was  so  absorbed  in  translating  and 
enjoying  the  intellectual  tangles,  that  Solomon  had  scarce  more 
to  do  than  to  play  the  part  of  chorus.  He  was  fortunate  in  that 
his  father  could  not  afford  to  send  him  to  a  Chedar,  an  insani- 
tary institution  that  made  Jacob  a  dull  boy  by  cutting  off  his 
play-time  and  his  oxygen,  and  delivering  him  over  to  the  leathery 
mercies  of  an  unintelligently  learned  zealot,  scrupulously  unclean. 

The  literature  and  history  Solomon  really  cared  for  was  not 
of  the  Jews.  It  was  the  history  of  Daredevil  Dick  and  his  con- 
geners whose  surprising  adventures,  second-hand,  in  ink-stained 
sheets,  were  bartered  to  him  for  buttons,  which  shows  the 
advantages  of  not  having  a  soul  above  such.  These  deeds  of 
derring-do  (usually  starting  in  a  Sturm  tmd  Drang  school-room 
period  in  which  teachers  were  thankfully  accepted  as  created  by 
Providence  for  the  sport  of  schoolboys)  Solomon  conned  at  all 
hours,  concealing  them  under  his  locker  when  he  was  supposed 
to  be  studying  the  Irish  question  from  an  atlas,  and  even  hiding 
them  between  the  leaves  of  his  dog-eared  Prayer-book  for  use 
during  the  morning  service.  The  only  harm  they  did  him  was 
that  inflicted  through  the  medium  of  the  educational  rod,  when 
his  surreptitious  readings  were  discovered  and  his  treasures 
thrown  to  the  flames  amid  tears  copious  enough  to  extinguish 
them. 

CHAPTER   VI. 

"REB"    SHEMUEL. 


"  The  Torah  is  greater  than  the  priesthood  and  than  royalty,  seeing  that 
royalty  demands  thirty  qualifications,  the  priesthood  twenty-four,  while  the 
Torah  is  acquired  by  forty-eight.  And  these  are  they:  By  audible  study; 
by  distinct  pronunciation  ;  by  understanding  and  discernment  of  the  heart ; 
by  awe,  reverence,  meekness,  cheerfulness  ;  by  ministering  to  the  sages ;  by 


76  CHILDREN  OF  THE    GHETTO. 

attaching  oneself  to  colleagues ;  by  discussion  with  disciples ;  by  sedate- 
ness ;  by  knowledge  of  the  Scripture  and  of  the  Mishnah ;  by  moderation 
in  business,  in  intercourse  with  the  world,  in  pleasure,  in  sleep,  in  conversa- 
tion, in  laughter;  by  long  suffering  ;  by  a  good  heart ;  by  faith  in  the  wise ; 
by  resignation  under  chastisement ;  by  recognizing  one's  place,  rejoicing  in 
one's  portion,  putting  a  fence  to  one's  words,  claiming  no  merit  for  oneself; 
by  being  beloved,  loving  the  All-present,  loving  mankind,  loving  just  courses, 
rectitude  and  reproof;  by  keeping  oneself  far  from  honors,  not  boasting  of 
one's  learning,  nor  delighting  in  giving  decisions ;  by  bearing  the  yoke  with 
one's  fellow,  judging  him  favorably  and  leading  him  to  truth  and  peace  ;  by 
being  composed  in  one's  study ;  by  asking  and  answering,  hearing  and  add- 
ing thereto  (by  one's  own  reflection)  ;  by  learning  with  the  object  of  teach- 
ing and  learning  with  the  object  of  practising,  by  making  one's  master 
wiser,  fixing  attention  upon  his  discourse,  and  reporting  a  thing  in  the 
name  of  him  who  said  it.  So  thou  hast  learnt.  Whosoever  reports  a  thing 
in  the  name  of  him  that  said  it  brings  deliverance  into  the  world,  as  it  is 
said — And  Esther  told  the  King  in  the  name  of  Mordecai." —  {Ethics  of 
the  Fathers,  Singer's  translation,) 


Moses  Ansell  only  occasionally  worshipped  at  the  synagogue 
of  "  The  Sons  of  the  Covenant,'''  for  it  was  too  near  to  make 
attendance  a  Mitzvah,  pleasing  in  the  sight  of  Heaven.  It  was 
like  having  the  prayer-quorum  brought  to  you,  instead  of  your 
going  to  it.  The  pious  Jew  must  speed  to  Shool  to  show  his 
eagerness  and  return  slowly,  as  with  reluctant  feet,  lest  Satan 
draw  the  attention  of  the  Holy  One  to  the  laches  of  His  chosen 
people.  It  was  not  easy  to  express  these  varying  emotions  on  a 
few  flights  of  stairs,  and  so  Moses  went  farther  afield.  In  subtle 
minutiae  like  this  Moses  was  facile  princeps,  being  as  Wellhausen 
puts  it  of  the  vi?'tuosi  oi  roWgxon.  If  he  put  on  his  right  stock- 
ing (or  rather  foot  lappet,  for  he  did  not  wear  stockings)  first,  he 
made  amends  by  putting  on  the  left  boot  first,  and  if  he  had 
lace-up  boots,  then  the  boot  put  on  second  would  have  a  com- 
pensatory precedence  in  the  lacing.  Thus  was  the  divine  prin- 
ciple of  justice  symbolized  even  in  these  small  matters. 

Moses  was  a  great  man  in  several  of  the  more  distant  C/ievras, 
among  which  he  distributed  the  privilege  of  his  presence.  It 
was  only  when  by  accident  the  times  of  service  did  not  coincide 
that  Moses  favored  the  *"  Sons  of  the  Covenant/'  putting  in  an 


"REB''   SHEMUEL,  77 

appearance  either  at  the  commencement  or  the  fag  end,  for  he 
was  not  above  praying  odd  bits  of  the  service  twice  over,  and 
even  sometimes  prefaced  or  supplemented  his  synagogal  perform- 
ances by  solo  renditions  of  the  entire  ritual  of  a  hundred  pages 
at  home.  The  morning  services  began  at  six  in  summer  and 
seven  in  winter,  so  that  the  workingman  might  start  his  long 
day^s  work  fortified. 

At  the  close  of  the  service  at  the  Beth  Hamidrash  a  few  morn- 
ings after  the  Redemption  of  Ezekiel,  Solomon  went  up  to  Reb 
Shemuel,  who  in  return  for  the  privilege  of  blessing  the  boy  gave 
him  a  halfpenny.  Solomon  passed  it  on  to  his  father,  whom  he 
accompanied. 

"Well,  how  goes  it,  Reb  Meshe?''  said  Reb  Shemuel  with  his 
cheery  smile,  noticing  Moses  loitering.  He  called  him  "  Reb  " 
out  of  courtesy  and  in  acknowledgment  of  his  piety.  The  real 
"  Reb "  was  a  fine  figure  of  a  man,  with  matter,  if  not  piety, 
enough  for  two  Moses  Ansells.  Reb  was  a  popular  corruption 
of  "  Rav  "  or  Rabbi. 

"  Bad,"  replied  Moses.  "  I  havenH  had  any  machining  to  do 
for  a  month.  Work  is  very  slack  at  this  time  of  year.  But  God 
is  good." 

"Can't  you  sell  something?"  said  Reb  Shemuel,  thoughtfully 
caressing  his  long,  gray-streaked  black  beard. 

"  I  have  sold  lemons,  but  the  four  or  five  shillings  I  made 
went  in  bread  for  the  children  and  in  rent.  Money  runs  through 
the  fingers  somehow,  with  a  family  of  five  and  a  frosty  winter. 
When  the  lemons  were  gone  I  stood  where  I  started." 

The  Rabbi  sighed  sympathetically  and  slipped  half-a-crown 
into  Moses''s  palm.  Then  he  hurried  out.  His  boy,  Levi,  stayed 
behind  a  moment  to  finish  a  transaction  involving  the  barter  of 
a  pea-shooter  for  some  of  Solomon's  buttons.  Levi  was  two 
years  older  than  Solomon,  and  was  further  removed  from  him  by 
going  to  a  "  middle  class  school."  His  manner  towards  Solomon 
was  of  a  corresponding  condescension.  But  it  took  a  great  deal 
to  overawe  Solomon,  who,  with  the  national  humor,  possessed 
the  national  Chutzpah^  which  is  variously  translated  enterprise, 
audacity,  brazen  impudence  and  cheek. 


78  CHILDREN   OF   THE    GHETTO. 

"  I  say,  Levi/'  he  said,  "  we've  got  no  school  to-day.  Won't 
you  come  round  this  morning  and  play  I-spy-I  in  our  street? 
There  are  some  splendid  corners  for  hiding,  and  they  are  putting 
up  new  buildings  all  round  with  lovely  hoardings,  and  they're 
knocking  down  a  pickle  warehouse,  and  while  you  are  hiding  in 
the  rubbish  you  sometimes  pick  up  scrumptious  bits  of  pickled 
walnut.     Oh,  golly,  ain't  they  prime !  " 

Levi  turned  up  his  nose. 

"We've  got  plenty  of  whole  walnuts  at  home,"  he  said. 

Solomon  felt  snubbed.  He  became  aware  that  this  tall  boy 
had  smart  black  clothes,  which  would  not  be  improved  by  rub- 
bing against  his  own  greasy  corduroys. 

"  Oh,  well,"  he  said,  "  I  can  get  lots  of  boys,  and  girls,  too." 

"  Say,"  said  Levi,  turning  back  a  little.  "  That  little  girl  your 
father  brought  upstairs  here  on  the  Rejoicing  of  the  Law,  that 
was  your  sister,  wasn't  it  ?  " 

"  Esther,  d'ye  mean  ?  " 

"How  should  I  know?  A  little,  dark  girl,  with  a  print  dress, 
rather  pretty —  not  a  bit  like  you." 

"  Yes,  that's  our  Esther —  she's  in  the  sixth  standard  and  only 
eleven." 

"We  don't  have  standards  in  our  school!  "  said  Levi  contempt- 
uously.    "  Will  your  sister  join  in  the  I-spy-I  ?  " 

"No,  she  can't  run,"  replied  Solomon,  half  apologetically. 
"  She  only  likes  to  read.  She  reads  all  my  *  Boys  of  England' 
and  things,  and  now  she's  got  hold  of  a  little  brown  book  she 
keeps  all  to  herself.  I  like  reading,  too,  but  I  do  it  in  school  or 
in  S/iool,  where  there's  nothing  better  to  do." 

"Has  she  got  a  holiday  to-day,  too?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Solomon. 

"  But  my  school's  open,"  said  Levi  enviously,  and  Solomon 
lost  the  feeling  of  inferiority,  and  felt  avenged. 

"  Come,  then,  Solomon,"  said  his  father,  who  had  reached  the 
door.  The  two  converted  part  of  the  half-crown  into  French 
loaves  and  carried  them  home  to  form  an  unexpected  breakfast. 

Meantime  Reb  Shemuel,  whose  full  name  was  the  Reverend 
Samuel   Jacobs,   also   proceeded  to  breakfast.     His   house  lay 


*'REB"   SIIEMUEL.  79 

near  the  Shoo!,  and  was  approached  by  an  avenue  of  mendicants. 
He  arrived  in  his  shirt-sleeves. 

"  Quick,  Simcha,  give  me  my  new  coat.  It  is  very  cold  this 
morning.'" 

"  YouVe  given  away  your  coat  again ! "  shrieked  his  wife,  who, 
though  her  name  meant  ''  Rejoicing,"  was  more  often  upbraid- 
ing. 

"  Yes,  it  was  only  an  old  one,  Simcha,"  said  the  Rabbi  dep- 
recatingly.  He  took  off  his  high  hat  and  replaced  it  by  a  little 
black  cap  which  he  carried  in  his  tail  pocket. 

"You'll  ruin  me,  Shemuel!"  moaned  Simcha,  wringing  her 
hands.  "  You'd  give  away  the  shirt  off  your  skin  to  a  pack  of 
good-for-nothing  Schnorrers P 

"Yes,  if  they  had  only  their  skin  in  the  world.  Why  not?" 
said  the  old  Rabbi,  a  pacific  gleam  in  his  large  gazelle-like  eyes. 
"  Perhaps  my  coat  may  have  the  honor  to  cover  Elijah  the 
prophet." 

"Elijah  the  prophet!"  snorted  Simcha.  "Elijah  has  sense 
enough  to  stay  in  heaven  and  not  go  wandering  about  shiver- 
ing in  the  fog  and  frost  of  this  God-accursed  country." 

The  old  Rabbi  answered,  "Atschew!" 

"  For  thy  salvation  do  I  hope,  O  Lord,"  murmured  Simcha 
piously  in  Hebrew,  adding  excitedly  in  English,  "  Ah,  you'll  kill 
yourself,  Shemuel."  She  rushed  upstairs  and  returned  with 
another  coat  and  a  new  terror. 

"  Here,  you  fool,  youVe  been  and  done  a  fine  thing  this  time ! 
All  your  silver  was  in  the  coat  youVe  given  away !  " 

"Was  it?"  said  Reb  Shemuel,  startled.  Then  the  tranquil 
look  returned  to  his  brown  eyes.  "  No,  I  took  it  all  out  before 
I  gave  away  the  coat." 

"God  be  thanked!"  said  Simcha  fervently  in  Yiddish. 
"Where  is  it?     I  want  a  few  shillings  for  grocery." 

"  I  gave  it  away  before,  I  tell  you! " 

Simcha  groaned  and  fell  into  her  chair  with  a  crash  that 
rattled  the  tray  and  shook  the  cups. 

"  Here's  the  end  of  the  week  coming,"  she  sobbed,  "  and  I 
shall  have  no  fish  for  Shabbos.'''' 


80  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

"Do  not  blaspheme!"  said  Reb  Shemuel,  tugging  a  little 
angrily  at  his  venerable  beard.  "  The  Holy  One,  blessed  be 
He,  will  provide  for  our  Shabbos.'''' 

Simcha  made  a  sceptical  mouth,  knowing  that  it  was  she  and 
nobody  else  whose  economies  would  provide  for  the  due  celebra- 
tion of  the  Sabbath.  Only  by  a  constant  course  of  vigilance, 
mendacity  and  petty  peculation  at  her  husband's  expense  could 
she  manage  to  support  the  family  of  four  comfortably  on  his 
pretty  considerable  salary.  Reb  Shemuel  went  and  kissed  her 
on  the  sceptical  mouth,  because  in  another  instant  she  would 
have  him  at  her  mercy.  He  washed  his  hands  and  durst  not 
speak  between  that  and  the  first  bite. 

He  was  an  official  of  heterogeneous  duties  —  he  preached  and 
taught  and  lectured.  He  married  people  and  divorced  them. 
He  released  bachelors  from  the  duty  of  marrying  their  deceased 
brothers'  wives.  He  superintended  a  slaughtering  department, 
licensed  men  as  competent  killers,  examined  the  sharpness  of 
their  knives  that  the  victims  might  be  put  to  as  little  pain  as 
possible,  and  inspected  dead  cattle  in  the  shambles  to  see  if 
they  were  perfectly  sound  and  free  from  pulmonary  disease. 
But  his  greatest  function  was  paskenmg,  or  answering  inquiries 
ranging  from  the  simplest  to  the  most  complicated  problems  of 
ceremonial  ethics  and  civil  law.  He  had  added  a  volume  of 
Shaalot/i-2i-Tshuvoth,  or  "  Questions  and  Answers  "  to  the  colos- 
sal casuistic  literature  of  his  race.  His  aid  was  also  invoked  as  a 
Shadchan,  though  he  forgot  to  take  his  commissions  and  lacked 
the  restless  zeal  for  the  mating  of  mankind  which  animated 
Sugarman,  the  professional  match-maker.  In  fine,  he  was  a 
witty  old  fellow  and  everybody  loved  him.  He  and  his  wife 
spoke  English  with  a  strong  foreign  accent ;  in  their  more  inti- 
mate causeries  they  dropped  into  Yiddish. 

The  Rebbitzin  poured  out  the  Rabbi's  coffee  and  whitened  it 
with  milk  drawn  direct  from  the  cow  into  her  own  jug.  The 
butter  and  cheese  were  equally  kosher,  coming  straight  from 
Hebrew  Hollanders  and  having  passed  through  none  but  Jewish 
vessels.  As  the  Reb  sat  himself  down  at  the  head  of  the  table 
Hannah  entered  the  room. 


''REB''   SHEMUEL.  81 

"  Good  morning,  father,"  she  said,  kissing  him.  ^'  What  have 
you  got  your  new  coat  on  for?     Any  weddings  to-day?  '^ 

''  No,  my  dear,"  said  Reb  Shemuel,  "  marriages  are  falling  off. 
There  hasn't  even  been  an  engagement  since  Belcovitch's  eldest 
daughter  betrothed  herself  to  Pesach  Weingott." 

"Oh,  these  Jewish  young  men!"  said  the  Rebbitzin.  "Look 
at  my  Hannah  —  as  pretty  a  girl  as  you  could  meet  in  the  whole 
Lane  —  and  yet  here  she  is  wasting  her  youth." 

Hannah  bit  her  lip,  instead  of  her  bread  and  butter,  for  she 
felt  she  had  brought  the  talk  on  herself  She  had  heard  the 
same  grumblings  from  her  mother  for  two  years.  Mrs.  Jacobs's 
maternal  anxiety  had  begun  when  her  daughter  was  seventeen. 
"  When  /was  seventeen,"  she  went  on,  "  I  was  a  married  woman. 
Now-a-days  the  girls  don't  begin  to  get  a  Chosan  till  they're 
twenty." 

"  We  are  not  living  in  Poland,"  the  Reb  reminded  her. 

"What's  that  to  do  with  it?  It's  the  Jewish  young  men  who 
want  to  marry  gold." 

"  Why  blame  them  ?  A  Jewish  young  man  can  marry  several 
pieces  of  gold,  but  since  Rabbenu  Gershom  he  can  only  marry 
one  woman,"  said  the  Reb,  laughing  feebly  and  forcing  his 
humor  for  his  daughter's  sake. 

"  One  woman  is  more  than  thou  canst  support,"  said  the 
Rebbitzin,  irritated  into  Yiddish,  "giving  away  the  flesh  from 
off  thy  children's  bones.  If  thou  hadst  been  a  proper  father 
thou  wouldst  have  saved  thy  money  for  Hannah's  dowry,  instead 
of  wasting  it  on  a  parcel  of  vagabond  Schnorrers.  Even  so  I  can 
give  her  a  good  stock  of  bedding  and  under-linen.  It's  a  re- 
proach and  a  shame  that  thou  hast  not  yet  found  her  a  hus- 
band. Thou  canst  find  husbands  quick  enough  for  other  men's 
daughters ! " 

"  I  found  a  husband  for  thy  father's  daughter,"  said  the  Reb, 
with  a  roguish  gleam  in  his  brown  eyes. 

"Don't  throw  that  up  to  me!  I  could  have  got  plenty  better. 
And  my  daughter  wouldn't  have  known  the  shame  of  finding 
nobody  to  marry  her.  In  Poland  at  least  the  youths  would 
have  flocked  to  marry  her  because  she  was  a  Rabbi's  daughter, 

G 


82  CHILDREN  OF  THE    GHETTO. 

and  theyM  think  it  an  honor  to  be  a  son-in-law  of  a  Son  of  the 
Law.  But  in  this  godless  country  !  Why  in  my  village  the 
Chief  Rabbi's  daughter,  who  was  so  ugly  as  to  make  one  spit 
out,  carried  off  the  finest  man  in  the  district." 

"  But  thou,  my  Simcha,  hadst  no  need  to  be  connected  with 
Rabbonim  ! " 

"  Oh,  yes ;  make  mockery  of  me." 

"  I  mean  it.     Thou  art  as  a  lily  of  Sharon." 

"Wilt  thou  have  another  cup  of  coffee,  Shemuel?" 

"Yes,  my  life.  Wait  but  a  little  and  thou  shalt  see  our 
Hannah  under  the  CJuippahy 

"  Hast  thou  any  one  in  thine  eye?  " 

The  Reb  nodded  his  head  mysteriously  and  winked  the  eye,  as 
if  nudging  the  person  in  it. 

"Who  is  it,  father?"  said  Levi.  "I  do  hope  it's  a  real  swell 
who  talks  English  properly." 

"And  mind  you  make  yourself  agreeable  to  him,  Hannah," 
said  the  Rebbitzin.  "  You  spoil  all  the  matches  Pve  tried  to 
make  for  you  by  your  stupid,  stiff  manner." 

"Look  here,  mother!"  cried  Hannah,  pushing  aside  her  cup 
violently.  "  Am  I  going  to  have  my  breakfast  in  peace  ?  I 
don't  want  to  be  married  at  all.  I  don't  want  any  of  your 
Jewish  men  coming  round  to  examine  me  as  if  I  were  a  horse, 
and  wanting  to  know  how  much  money  you'll  give  them  as  a 
set-off.  Let  me  be  !  Let  me  be  single  !  It's  my  business,  not 
yours." 

The  Rebbitzin  bent  eyes  of  angry  reproach  on  the  Reb. 

"What  did  I  tell  thee,  Shemuel?  She's  vieshiigga  —  quite 
mad!     Healthy  and  fresh  and  mad!" 

"  Yes,  you'll  drive  me  mad,"  said  Hannah  savagely.  "  Let 
me  be  !  Fm  too  old  now  to  get  a  C/iosan,  so  let  me  be  as  I  am. 
I  can  always  earn  my  own  living." 

"  Thou  seest,  Shemuel  ? "  said  Simcha.  "  Thou  seest  my 
sorrows  ?  Thou  seest  how  impious  our  children  wax  in  this 
godless  country." 

"  Let  her  be,  Simcha,  let  her  be,"  said  the  Reb.  "  She  is 
young  vet.     If  she  hasn't  any  inclination  thereto  —  ! " 


''REB''   SHEMUEL.  83 

"And  what  is  her  inclination?  A  pretty  thing,  forsooth!  Is 
she  going  to  make  her  mother  a  laughing-stock!  Are  Mrs. 
Jewell  and  Mrs.  Abrahams  to  dandle  grandchildren  in  my  face, 
to  gouge  out  my  eyes  with  them!  It  isn^t  that  she  canH  get 
young  men.  Only  she  is  so  high-blown.  One  would  think  she 
had  a  father  who  earned  five  hundred  a  year,  instead  of  a  man 
who  scrambles  half  his  salary  among  dirty  Schnorrers.'''' 

"Talk  not  like  an  Epicurean,^''  said  the  Reb.  "What  are  we 
all  but  Schnorrers,  dependent  on  the  charity  of  the  Holy  One, 
blessed  be  He?  What!  Have  we  made  ourselves?  Rather 
fall  prostrate  and  thank  Him  that  His  bounties  to  us  are  so 
great  that  they  include  the  privilege  of  giving  charity  to  others." 

"But  we  work  for  our  living  !"  said  the  Rebbitzin.  "I  wear 
my  knees  away  scrubbing."  External  evidence  pointed  rather 
to  the  defrication  of  the  nose. 

"  But,  mother,"  said  Hannah.  "You  know  we  have  a  servant 
to  do  the  rough  work." 

"  Yes,  servants  !  "  said  the  Rebbitzin,  contemptuously.  "  If 
you  don't  stand  over  them  as  the  Egyptian  taskmasters  over  our 
forefathers,  they  don't  do  a  stroke  of  work  except  breaking  the 
crockery.  Pd  much  rather  sweep  a  room  myself  than  see  a 
Shiksah  pottering  about  for  an  hour  and  end  by  leaving  all  the 
dust  on  the  window-ledges  and  the  corners  of  the  mantelpiece. 
As  for  beds,  I  don't  believe  Shiksahs  ever  shake  them  !  If  I 
had  my  way  Td  wring  all  their  necks." 

"What's  the  use  of  always  complaining?"  said  Hannah,  im- 
patiently. "  You  know  we  must  keep  a  Shiksah  to  attend  to  the 
Shabbos  fire.  The  women  or  the  little  boys  you  pick  up  in  the 
street  are  so  unsatisfactory.  When  you  call  in  a  little  barefoot 
street  Arab  and  ask  him  to  poke  the  fire,  he  looks  at  you  as  if 
you  must  be  an  imbecile  not  to  be  able  to  do  it  yourself.  And 
then  you  can't  always  get  hold  of  one." 

The  Sabbath  fire  was  one  of  the  great  difficulties  of  the 
Ghetto.  The  Rabbis  had  modified  the  Biblical  prohibition 
against  having  any  fire  whatever,  and  allowed  it  to  be  kindled 
by  non-Jews.  Poor  women,  frequently  Irish,  and  known  as 
Shabbos-goyahs  or  fire-goyahs^  acted  as  stokers   to  the  Ghetto 


84  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

at  twopence  a  hearth.  No  Jew  ever  touched  a  match  or  a 
candle  or  burnt  a  piece  of  paper,  or  even  opened  a  letter.  The 
Goyah,  which  is  literally  heathen  female,  did  everything  required 
on  the  Sabbath.  His  grandmother  once  called  Solomon  Ansell 
a  Sabbath-female  merely  for  fingering  the  shovel  when  there  was 
nothing  in  the  grate. 

The  Reb  liked  his  fire.  When  it  sank  on  the  Sabbath  he 
could  not  give  orders  to  the  Shiksah  to  replenish  it,  but  he 
would  rub  his  hands  and  remark  casually  (in  her  hearing), 
"  Ah,  how  cold  it  is  ! '' 

"  Yes,""  he  said  now,  "  I  always  freeze  on  Shabbos  when  thou 
hast  dismissed  thy  Shiksah.  Thou  makest  me  catch  one  cold 
a  month." 

"/make  thee  catch  cold!"  said  the  Rebbitzin.  "When  thou 
comest  through  the  air  of  winter  in  thy  shirt-sleeves  !  Thou'lt 
fall  back  upon  me  for  poultices  and  mustard  plasters.  And  then 
thou  expectest  me  to  have  enough  money  to  pay  a  Shiksah  into 
the  bargain!  If  I  have  any  more  of  thy  Schnorrers  coming 
here  I  shall  bundle  them  out  neck  and  crop." 

This  was  the  morhent  selected  by  Fate  and  Melchitsedek 
Pinchas  for  the  latter's  entry. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE   NEO-HEBREW   POET. 

He  came  through  the  open  street  door,  knocked  perfunctorily 
at  the  door  of  the  room,  opened  it  and  then  kissed  the  Mesiizah 
outside  the  door.  Then  he  advanced,  snatched  the  Rebbitzin's 
hand  away  from  the  handle  of  the  coffee-pot  and  kissed  it  with 
equal  devotion.  He  then  seized  upon  Hannah's  hand  and 
pressed  his  grimy  lips  to  that,  murmuring  in  German  : 

"  Thou  lookest  so  charming  this  morning,  like  the  roses  of 
Carmel."  Next  he  bent  down  and  pressed  his  lips  to  the  Reb^s 
coat-tail.  Finally  he  said:  "Good  morning,  sir,"  to  Levi,  who 
replied  very  affably,  "•  Good  morning,  Mr.  Pinchas."     "  Peace  be 


THE  NEO-HEBREW  POET.  85 

unto  you,  Pinchas,"  said  the  Reb.  "  I  did  not  see  you  in  SJiool 
this  morning,  though  it  was  the  New  Moon.'" 

"No,  I  went  to  the  Great  Shoo^''  said  Pinchas  in  German. 
"  If  you  do  not  see  me  at  your  place  yoa.may  be  sure  Fm  some- 
where else.  Any  one  who  has  lived  so  long  as  I  in  the  Land  of 
Israel  cannot  bear  to  pray  without  a  quorum.  In  the  Holy  Land 
I  used  to  learn  for  an  hour  in  the  SJiool  every  morning  before  the 
service  began.  But  I  am  not  here  to  talk  about  myself.  I  come 
to  ask  you  to  do  me  the  honor  to  accept  a  copy  of  ray  new  vol- 
ume of  poems:  Metatoro)Cs  Flames.  Is  it  not  a  beautiful  title? 
When  Enoch  was  taken  up  to  heaven  while  yet  alive,  he  was 
converted  to  flames  of  fire  and  became  Metatoron,  the  great 
spirit  of  the  Cabalah,  So  am  I  rapt  up  into  the  heaven  of  lyrical 
poetry  and  I  become  all  fire  and  flame  and  light.'" 

The  poet  was  a  slim,  dark  little  man,  with  long,  matted  black 
hair.  His  face  was  hatchet-shaped  and  not  unlike  an  Aztec's. 
The  eyes  were  informed  by  an  eager  brilliance.  He  had  a  heap 
of  little  paper-covered  books  in  one  hand  and  an  extinct  cigar  in 
the  other.     He  placed  the  books  upon  the  breakfast  table. 

"At  last,''  he  said.  "See,  I  have  got  it  printed  —  the  great 
work  which  this  ignorant  English  Judaism  has  left  to  moulder 
while  it  pays  its  stupid  reverends  thousands  a  year  for  wearing 
white  ties." 

"And  who  paid  for  it  now,  Mr.  Pinchas?  "  said  the  Rebbitzin. 

"Who?  Wh-o-o?"  stammered  Melchitsedek.  "Who  but 
myself?  " 

"  But  you  say  you  are  blood-poor." 

"  True  as  the  Law  of  Moses !  But  I  have  written  articles  for 
the  jargon  papers.  They  jump  at  me — there  is  not  a  man 
on  the  staff  of  them  all  who  has  the  pen  of  a  ready  writer.  I 
can't  get  any  money  out  of  them,  my  dear  Rebbitzin,  else  I 
shouldn't  be  without  breakfast  this  morning,  but  the  proprietor 
of  the  largest  of  them  is  also  a  printer,  and  he  has  printed  my 
little  book  in  return.  But  I  don't  think  I  shall  fill  my  stomach 
with  the  sales.  Oh!  the  Holy  One,  blessed  be  He,  bless  you, 
Rebbitzin,  of  course  I'll  take  a  cup  of  coffee  ;  I  don't  know  any 
one  else  who  makes  coffee  with  such  a  sweet  savor ;  it  would  do 


86  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

for  a  spice  oflfering  when  the  Almighty  restores  us  our  Temple. 
You  are  a  happy  mortal,  Rabbi,  You  will  permit  that  I  seat 
myself  at  the  table  ?  " 

Without  awaiting  permission  he  pushed  a  chair  between  Levi 
and  Hannah  and  sat  down ;  then  he  got  up  again  and  washed 
his  hands  and  helped  himself  to  a  spare  egg. 

"  Here  is  your  copy,  Reb  Shemuel,"  he  went  on  after  an 
interval.     "  You  see  it  is  dedicated  generally : 

'  To  the  Pillars  of  English  Judaism.' 

They  are  a  set  of  donkey-heads,  but  one  must  give  them  a 
chance  of  rising  to  higher  things.  It  is  true  that  not  one  of 
them  understands  Hebrew,  not  even  the  Chief  Rabbi,  to  whom 
courtesy  made  me  send  a  copy.  Perhaps  he  will  be  able  to 
read  my  poems  with  a  dictionary ;  he  certainly  can't  write 
Hebrew  without  two  grammatical  blunders  to  every  word.  No, 
no,  don't  defend  him,  Reb  Shemuel,  because  you're  under  him. 
He  ought  to  be  under  you  —  only  he  expresses  his  ignorance 
in  English  and  the  fools  think  to  talk  nonsense  in  good  English 
is  lo  be  qualified  for  the  Rabbinate.'" 

(The  remark  touched  the  Rabbi  in  a  tender  place.  It  was 
the-one  worry  of  his  life,  the  consciousness  that  persons  in 
high  quarters  disapproved  of  him  as  a  force  impeding  the  An- 
glicization  of  the  Ghetto.  He  knew  his  shortcomings,  but  could 
never  quite  comprehend  the  importance  of  becoming  English. 
He  had  a  latent  feeling  that  Judaism  had  flourished  before  Eng- 
land was  invented,  and  so  the  poet's  remark  was  secretly  pleasing 
to  himo 

'^  You  know  very  well,"  went  on  Pinchas,  ^'  that  I  and  you 
are  the  only  two  persons  in  London  who  can  write  correct 
Holy  Language." 

"  No,  no,"  said  the  Rabbi,  deprecatingly. 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  Pinchas,  emphatically.  "You  can  write 
quite  as  well  as  I.  But  just  cast  your  eye  now  on  the  especial 
dedication  which  I  have  written  to  you  in  my  own  autograph. 
'To  the  light  of  his  generation,  the  great   Gaon,  whose  excel- 


THE  NEO-HEBREW  POET.  87 

lency  reaches  to  the  ends  of  the  earth,  from  whose  lips  all 
the  people  of  the  Lord  seek  knowledge,  the  never-failing  well, 
the  mighty  eagle  soars  to  heaven  on  the  wings  of  understand- 
ing, to  Rav  Shemiiel,  may  whose  light  n-ever  be  dimmed,  and 
in  whose  day  may  the  Redeemer  come  unto  Zion.'  There, 
take  it,  honor  me  by  taking  it.  It  is  the  homage  of  the  man 
of  genius  to  the  man  of  learning,  the  humble  oiTering  of  the 
one  Hebrew  scholar  in  England  to  the  other." 

"Thank  you,"  said  the  old  Rabbi,  much  moved.  "It  is 
too  handsome  of  you,  and  I  shall  read  it  at  once  and  treasure 
it  amongst  my  dearest  books,  for  you  know  well  that  I  con- 
sider that  you  have  the  truest  poetic  gift  of  any  son  of  Israel 
since  Jehuda  Halevi." 

"  I  have  !  I  know  it  !  I  feel  it !  It  burns  me.  The  sorrow  of 
our  race  keeps  me  awake  at  night  —  the  national  hopes  tingle 
like  electricity  through  me  —  I  bedew  my  couch  with  tears  in 
the  darkness  "  —  Pinchas  paused  to  take  another  slice  of  bread 
and  butter.  "  It  is  then  that  my  poems  are  born.  The  words 
burst  into  music  in  my  head  and  I  sing  like  Isaiah  the  restora- 
tion of  our  land,  and  become  the  poet  patriot  of  my  people. 
But  these  English  !  They  care  only  to  make  money  and  to 
stuff  it  down  the  throats  of  gorging  reverends.  My  scholarship, 
my  poetry,  my  divine  dreams  —  what  are  these  to  a  besotted, 
brutal  congregation  of  Men-of-the-Earth  ?  I  sent  Buckledorf, 
the  rich  banker,  a  copy  of  my  little  book,  with  a  special  dedica- 
tion written  in  my  own  autograph  in  German,  so  that  he  might 
understand  it.  And  what  did  he  send  me?  A  beggarly  five 
shillings?  Five  shillings  to  the  one  poet  in  whom  the  heavenly 
fire  lives!  How  can  the  heavenly  fire  live  on  five  shillings?  I 
had  almost  a  mind  to  send  it  back.  And  then  there  was  Gideon, 
the  member  of  Parliament.  I  made  one  of  the  poems  an  acros- 
tic on  his  name,  so  that  he  might  be  handed  down  to  posterity. 
There,  that\s  the  one.  No,  the  one  on  the  page  you  were  just 
looking  at.     Yes,  that's  it,  beginning : 

'  Great  leader  of  our  Israel's  host, 
I  sing  thy  high  heroic  deeds, 
Divinely  gifted  learned  man." 


88  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

"  I  wrote  his  dedication  in  English,  for  he  understands  neither 
Hebrew  nor  German,  the  miserable,  purse-proud,  vanity-eaten 
Man-of-the-Earth." 

"Why,  didn't  he  give  you  anything  at  all? "  said  the  Reb. 

"  Worse  !  He  sent  me  back  the  book.  But  Til  be  revenged 
on  him.  Til  take  the  acrostic  out  of  the  next  edition  and  let 
him  rot  in  oblivion.  I  have  been  all  over  the  world  to  every 
great  city  where  Jews  congregate.  In  Russia,  in  Turkey,  in 
Germany,  in  Roumania,  in  Greece,  in  Morocco,  in  Palestine. 
Everywhere  the  greatest  Rabbis  have  leaped  like  harts  on  the 
mountains  with  joy  at  my  coming.  They  have  fed  and  clothed 
me  like  a  prince.  I  have  preached  at  the  synagogues,  and  every- 
where people  have  said  it  was  like  the  Wilna  Gaon  come  again. 
From  the  neighboring  villages  for  miles  and  miles  the  pious 
have  come  to  be  blessed  by  me.  Look  at  my  testimonials  from 
all  the  greatest  saints  and  savants.  But  in  England —  in  Eng- 
land alone  —  what  is  my  welcome?  Do  they  say:  'Welcome, 
Melchitsedek  Pinchas,  welcome  as  the  bridegroom  to  the  bride 
when  the  long  day  is  done  and  the  feast  is  o'er ;  welcome  to  you, 
with  the  torch  of  your  genius,  with  the  burden  of  your  learning 
that  is  rich  with  the  whole  wealth  of  Hebrew  literature  in  all 
ages  and  countries.  Here  we  have  no  great  and  wise  men.  Our 
Chief  Rabbi  is  an  idiot.  Come  thou  and  be  our  Chief  Rabbi?' 
Do  they  say  this?  No  !  They  greet  me  with  scorn,  coldness, 
slander.  As  for  the  Rev.  Elkan  Benjamin,  who  makes  such  a 
fuss  of  himself  because  he  sends  a  wealthy  congregation  to  sleep 
with  his  sermons,  Til  expose  him  as  sure  as  there's  a  Guardian 
of  Israel.     1*1]  let  the  world  know  about  his  four  mistresses." 

"  Nonsense  !  Guard  yourself  against  the  evil  tongue,"  said  the 
Reb.     "  How  do  you  know  he  has  ?  " 

"It's  the  Law  of  Moses,"  said  the  little  poet.  "True  as 
I  stand  here.  You  ask  Jacob  Hermann.  It  was  he  who  told 
me  about  it.  Jacob  Hermann  said  to  me  one  day :  '  That  Ben- 
jamin has  a  mistress  for  every  fringe  of  his  four-corners.'  And 
how  many  is  that,  eh?  I  do  not  know  why  he  should  be 
allowed  to  slander  me  and  I  not  be  allowed  to  tell  the  tmth 
about  him.     One  day  I  will  shoot  him.     You  know  he  said  that 


THE  NEO-HEBREW  POET.  89 

when  I  first  came  to  London  I  joined  the  Meshumadim  in 
Palestine  Place." 

"Well,  he  had  at  least  some  foundation  for  that,"  said  Reb 
Shemuel. 

''Foundation  !  Do  you  call  that  foundation  —  because  I  lived 
there  for  a  week,  hunting  out  their  customs  and  their  ways  of 
ensnaring  the  souls  of  our  brethren,  so  that  I  might  write  about 
them  one  day?  Have  I  not  already  told  you  not  a  morsel  of 
their  food  passed  my  lips  and  that  the  money  which  I  had  to 
take  so  as  not  to  excite  suspicion  I  distributed  in  charity  among 
the  poor  Jews?     Why  not?     From  pigs  we  take  bristles." 

"  Still,  you  must  remember  that  if  you  had  not  been  such  a 
saint  and  such  a  great  poet,  I  might  myself  have  believed  that 
you  sold  your  soul  for  money  to  escape  starvation.  I  know 
how  these  devils  set  their  baits  for  the  helpless  immigrant,  offer- 
ing bread  in  return  for  a  lip-conversion.  They  are  grown  so 
cunning  now — they  print  their  hellish  appeals  in  Hebrew, 
knowing  we  reverence  the  Holy  Tongue." 

"  Yes,  the  ordinary  Man-of-the-Earth  believes  everything 
thafs  in  Hebrew.  That  was  the  mistake  of  the  Apostles  —  to 
write  in  Greek.  But  then  they,  too,  were  such  Men-of-the 
Earth." 

"  I  wonder  who  writes  such  good  Hebrew  for  the  mission- 
aries," said  Reb  Shemuel. 

"  I  wonder,"  gm-gled  Pinchas,  deep  in  his  coffee. 

"  But,  father,"  asked  Hannah,  "  don't  you  believe  any  Jew 
ever  really  believes  in  Christianity  ? " 

''How  is  it  possible?"  answered  Reb  Shemuel.  "A  Jew 
who  has  the  Law  from  Sinai,  the  Law  that  will  never  be 
changed,  to  whom  God  has  given  a  sensible  religion  and 
common-sense,  how  can  such  a  person  believe  in  the  farrago  of 
nonsense  that  makes  up  the  worship  of  the  Christians  !  No 
Jew  has  ever  apostatized  except  to  fill  his  purse  or  his  stomach 
or  to  avoid  persecution.  '  Getting  grace '  they  call  it  in  Eng- 
lish ;  but  with  poor  Jews  it  is  always  grace  after  meals.  Look 
at  the  Crypto-Jews,  the  Marranos,  who  for  centuries  lived  a 
double   life,   outwardly  Christians,   but    handing  down   secretly 


90  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

from  generation  to  generation  the  faith,  the  traditions,  the 
observances  of  Judaism."" 

"  Yes,  no  Jew  was  ever  fool  enough  to  turn  Christian  unless 
he  was  a  clever  man,"  said  the  poet  paradoxically.  "  Have  you 
not,  my  sweet,  innocent  young  lady,  heard  the  story  of  the  two 
Jews  in  Burgos  Cathedral  ?  " 

"  No,  what  is  it  ? "  said  Levi,  eagerly. 

"  Well,  pass  my  cup  up  to  your  highly  superior  mother  who  is 
waiting  to  fill  it  with  coffee.  Your  eminent  father  knows  the 
story  —  I  can  see  by  the  twinkle  in  his  learned  eye." 

"  Yes,  that  story  has  a  beard,"  said  the  Reb. 

"  Two  Spanish  Jews,"  said  the  poet,  addressing  himself  defer- 
entially to  Levi,  "  who  had  got  grace  were  waiting  to  be  baptized 
at  Burgos  Cathedral.  There  was  a  great  throng  of  Catholics 
and  a  special  Cardinal  was  coming  to  conduct  the  ceremony,  for 
their  conversion  was  a  great  triumph.  But  the  Cardinal  was 
late  and  the  Jews  fumed  and  fretted  at  the  delay.  The  shadows 
of  evening  were  falling  on  vault  and  transept.  At  last  one 
turned  to  the  other  and  said,  '  Knowest  thou  what,  Moses?  If 
the  Holy  Father  does  not  arrive  soon,  we  shall  be  too  late  to 
say  Diincha.'' " 

Levi  laughed  heartily ;  the  reference  to  the  Jewish  afternoon 
prayer  went  home  to  him. 

"That  story  sums  up  in  a  nutshell  the  whole  history  of  the 
great  movement  for  the  conversion  of  the  Jews.  We  dip  our- 
selves in  baptismal  water  and  wipe  ourselves  with  a  Talith.  We 
are  not  a  race  to  be  lured  out  of  the  fixed  feelings  of  countless 
centuries  by  the  empty  spirituality  of  a  religion  in  which,  as  I 
soon  found  out  when  I  lived  among  the  soul-dealers,  its  very 
professors  no  longer  believe.  W^e  are  too  fond  of  solid  things," 
said  the  poet,  upon  whom  a  good  breakfast  was  beginning  to 
produce  a  soothing  materialistic  effect.  "  Do  you  know  that 
anecdote  about  the  two  Jews  in  the  Transvaal?"  Pinchas  went 
on.     ''  That's  a  real  Chiney 

"I  don't  think  I  know  that  Maaseh^''  said  Reb  Shemuel. 

"Oh,  the  two  Jews  had  made  a  trek  and  were  travelling 
onwards  exploring  unknown  country.     One  night  they  were  sit- 


THE  NEO-HEBREW  POET.  91 

ting  by  their  campfire  playing  cards  when  suddenly  one  threw 
up  his  cards,  tore  his  hair  and  beat  his  breast  in  terrible  agony. 
'What's  the  matter?'  cried  the  other.  'Woe,  woe,'  said  the 
first.  ''To-day  was  the  Day  of  Atonemeijt!  and  we  have  eaten 
and  gone  on  as  usual.'  'Oh,  don't  take  on  so,'  said  his  friend. 
'  After  all.  Heaven  will  take  into  consideration  that  w-e  lost  count 
of  the  Jewish  calendar  and  didn't  mean  to  be  so  wicked.  And 
we  can  make  up  for  it  by  fasting  to-morrow.' 

'"Oh,  no!  Not  for  me,'  said  the  first.  'To-day  was  the  Day 
of  Atonement.' " 

All  laughed,  the  Reb  appreciating  most  keenly  the  sly  dig  at 
his  race.  He  had  a  kindly  sense  of  human  frailty.  Jews  are 
very  fond  of  telling  stories  against  themselves  —  for  their  sense 
of  humor  is  too  strong  not  to  be  aware  of  their  own  foibles  — 
but  they  tell  them  with  closed  doors,  and  resent  them  from  the 
outside.  They  chastise  themselves  because  they  love  them- 
selves, as  members  of  the  same  family  insult  one  another.  The 
secret  is,  that  insiders  understand  the  limitations  of  the  criti- 
cism, which  outsiders  are  apt  to  take  in  bulk.  No  race  in  the 
world  possesses  a  richer  anecdotal  lore  than  the  Jews  —  such 
pawky,  even  blasphemous  humor,  not  understandable  of  the 
heathen,  and  to  a  suspicious  mind  Pinchas's  overflowing  cornu- 
copia of  such  would  have  suggested  a  prior  period  of  Continental 
wandering  from  town  to  town,  like  the  Afinnesingers  of  the 
middle  ages,  repaying  the  hospitality  of  his  Jewish  entertainers 
with  a  budget  of  good  stories  and  gossip  from  the  scenes  of 
his  pilgrimages. 

"Do  you  know  the  story?"  he  w^ent  on,  encouraged  by 
Simcha's  smiling  face,  "  of  the  old  Reb  and  the  Havdolah  ? 
His  wife  left  town  for  a  few  days  and  when  she  returned  the  Reb 
took  out  a  bottle  of  wine,  poured  some  into  the  consecration  cup 
and  began  to  recite  the  blessing.  '  What  art  thou  doing  ? ' 
demanded  his  wife  in  amaze.  '  I  am  making  HavdolaJi^  replied 
the  Reb.  '  But  it  is  not  the  conclusion  of  a  festival  to-night,'  she 
said.  '  Oh,  yes,  it  is,'  he  answered.  '  My  Festival's  over.  You've 
come  back.' " 

The  Reb  laughed  so  much  over  this  story  that  Simcha's  brow 


92  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

grew  as  the  solid  Egyptian  darkness,  and  Pinchas  perceived  he 
had  made  a  mistake. 

"But  listen  to  the  end,"  he  said  with  a  creditable  impromptu. 
"The  wife  said  —  'No,  you're  mistaken.  Your  Festival's  only 
beginning.  You  get  no  supper.  It's  the  commencement  of  the 
Day  of  Atonement.' " 

Simcha's  brow  cleared  and  the  Reb  laughed  heartily. 

"  But  I  don't  see  the  point,  father,"  said  Levi. 

"  Point !  Listen,  my  son.  First  of  all  he  was  to  have  a  Day 
of  Atonement,  beginning  with  no  supper,  for  his  sin  of  rudeness 
to  his  faithful  wife.  Secondly,  dost  thou  not  know  that  with  us 
the  Day  of  Atonement  is  called  a  festival,  because  we  rejoice  at 
the  Creator's  goodness  in  giving  us  the  privilege  of  fasting? 
That's  it,  Pinchas,  isn't  it?" 

"  Yes,  that's  the  point  of  the  story,  and  I  think  the  Rebbitzin 
had  the  best  of  it,  eh  ? " 

"  Rebbitzins  always  have  the  last  word,''  said  the  Reb.  "  But 
did  I  tell  you  the  story  of  the  woman  who  asked  me  a  question 
the  other  day?  She  brought  me  a  fowl  in  the  morning  and  said 
that  in  cutting  open  the  gizzard  she  had  found  a  rusty  pin  which 
the  fowl  must  have  swallowed.  She  wanted  to  know  whether  the 
fowl  might  be  eaten.  It  was  a  very  difficult  point,  for  how  could 
you  tell  whether  the  pin  had  in  any  way  contributed  to  the  fowl's 
death  ?  I  searched  the  Shass  and  a  heap  of  ShaalotJm-  Tshuvos. 
I  went  and  consulted  the  Maggid  and  Sugarman  the  Shadchan 
and  Mr.  Karlkammer,  and  at  last  we  decided  that  the  fowl  was 
trifa  and  could  not  be  eaten.  So  the  same  evening  I  sent  for 
the  woman,  and  when  I  told  her  of  our  decision  she  burst  into 
tears  and  wrung  her  hands.  'Do  not  grieve  so,'  I  said,  taking 
compassion  upon  her,  '  I  will  buy  thee  another  fowl.'  But  she 
wept  on,  uncomforted.  '  O  woe  !  woe  ! '  she  cried.  '  We  ate  it 
all  up  yesterday.'" 

Pinchas  was  convulsed  with  laughter.  Recovering  himself,  he 
lit  his  half-smoked  cigar  without  asking  leave. 

"  I  thought  it  would  turn  out  differently,"  he  said.  ''  Like  that 
story  of  the  peacock.  A  man  had  one  presented  to  him,  and  as 
this  is  such  rare  diet  he  went  to  the  Reb  to  ask  if  it  was  kosher. 


THE   NEO-HEBREW  POET.  93 

The  Rabbi  said  '  no '  and  confiscated  the  peacock.  Later  on  the 
man  heard  that  the  Rabbi  had  given  a  banquet  at  which  his 
peacock  was  the  crowning  dish.  He  went  to  his  Rabbi  and 
reproached  liim.  '  /  may  eat  it/  replied  the  Rabbi,  '  because  my 
father  considers  it  permitted  and  we  may  always  go  by  what 
some  eminent  Son  of  the  Law  decides.  But  you  unfortunately 
came  to  7ne  for  an  opinion,  and  the  permissibility  of  peacock  is 
a  point  on  which  I  have  always  disagreed  with  my  father.'' '' 

Hannah  seemed  to  find  peculiar  enjoyment  in  the  story. 

"Anyhow,''  concluded  Pinchas,  "  you  have  a  more  pious  flock 
than  the  Rabbi  of  my  native  place,  who,  one  day,  announced  to 
his  congregation  that  he  was  going  to  resign.  Startled,  they 
sent  to  him  a  delegate,  who  asked,  in  the  name  of  the  congrega- 
tion, why  he  was  leaving  them.  '  Because,'  answered  the  Rabbi, 
'this  is  the  first  question  any  one  has  ever  asked  me! ' " 

"  Tell  Mr.  Pinchas  your  repartee  about  the  donkey,"  said 
Hannah,  smiling. 

"  Oh,  no,  it's  not  worth  while,"  said  the  Reb. 

"  Thou  art  always  so  backward  with  thine  own,"  cried  the 
Rebbitzin  warmly.  "  Last  Purim  an  impudent  of  face  sent  my 
husband  a  donkey  made  of  sugar.  My  husband  had  a  Rabbi 
baked  in  gingerbread  and  sent  it  in  exchange  to  the  donor,  with 
the  inscription  '•  A  Rabbi  sends  a  Rabbi.' " 

Reb  Shemuel  laughed  heartily,  hearing  this  afresh  at  the  lips 
of  his  wife.  But  Pinchas  was  bent  double  like  a  convulsive  note 
of  interrogation. 

The  clock  on  the  mantelshelf  began  to  strike  nine.  Levi 
jumped  to  his  feet. 

"  I  shall  be  late  for  school! "  he  cried,  making  for  the  door. 

''Stop!  stop!"  shouted  his  father.  "  Thou  hast  not  yet  said 
grace." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  have,  father.  While  you  were  all  telling  stories  I 
was  be7i5hing  q^\\qX\)'  to  myself." 

"  Is  Saul  also  among  the  prophets,  is  Levi  also  among  the 
story-tellers.?"  murmured  Pinchas  to  himself.  Aloud  he  said: 
"  The  child  speaks  truth  ;  I  saw  his  lips  moving." 

Levi  gave  the  poet  a  grateful  look,  snatched  up  his  satchel  and 


94  CHILDREN  OF  THE    GHETTO. 

ran  off  to  No.  i  Royal  Street.  Pinchas  followed  him  soon,  in- 
wardly upbraiding  Reb  Shemuel  for  meanness.  He  had  only  as 
yet  had  his  breakfast  for  his  book.  Perhaps  it  was  Simcha's 
presence  that  was  to  blame.  She  was  the  Reb's  right  hand  and 
he  did  not  care  to  let  her  know  what  his  left  was  doing. 

He  retired  to  his  study  when  Pinchas  departed,  and  the  Reb- 
bitzin  clattered  about  with  a  besom. 

The  study  was  a  large  square  room  lined  wdth  book-shelves 
and  hung  with  portraits  of  the  great  continental  Rabbis.  The 
books  were  bibliographical  monsters  to  which  the  Family  Bibles 
of  the  Christian  are  mere  pocket-books.  They  were  all  printed 
purely  with  the  consonants,  the  vowels  being  divined  grammati- 
cally or  known  by  heart.  In  each  there  was  an  island  of  text  in 
a  sea  of  commentary,  itself  lost  in  an  ocean  of  super-commentary 
that  was  bordered  by  a  continent  of  super-super-commentary. 
Reb  Shemuel  knew  many  of  these  immense  folios  —  with  all 
their  tortuous  windings  of  argument  and  anecdote  —  much  as 
the  child  knows  the  village  it  was  born  in,  the  crooked  by-ways 
and  the  field  paths.  Such  and  such  a  Rabbi  gave  such  and  such 
an  opinion  on  such  and  such  a  line  from  the  bottom  of  such  and 
such  a  page  —  his  memory  of  it  was  a  visual  picture.  And  just 
as  the  child  does  not  connect  its  native  village  with  the  broader 
world  without,  does  not  trace  its  streets  and  turnings  till  they 
lead  to  the  great  towns,  does  not  inquire  as  to  its  origins  and  its 
history,  does  not  view  it  in  relation  to  other  villages,  to  the  coun- 
try, to  the  continent,  to  the  world,  but  loves  it  for  itself  and  in 
itself,  so  Reb  Shemuel  regarded  and  reverenced  and  loved  these 
gigantic  pages  with  their  serried  battalions  of  varied  type.  They 
were  facts  —  absolute  as  the  globe  itself  —  regions  of  wisdom, 
perfect  and  self-sufficing.  A  little  obscure  here  and  there,  per- 
haps, and  in  need  of  amplification  or  explication  for  inferior  in- 
tellects—  a  half-finished  manuscript  commentary  on  one  of  the 
super-commentaries,  to  be  called  "The  Garden  of  Lilies,"  was 
lying  open  on  Reb  Shemuel's  own  desk  —  but  yet  the  only  true 
encyclopaedia  of  things  terrestrial  and  divine.  And,  indeed,  they 
were  wondeiful  books.  It  was  as  difficult  to  say  what  was  not 
in  them  as  what  was.     Through  them  the  old  Rabbi  held  com- 


THE  NEO-HEBREW  POET.  95 

munion  with  his  God  whom  he  loved  with  all  his  heart  and  soul 
and  thought  of  as  a  genial  Father,  watching  tenderly  over  His 
froward  children  and  chastising  them  because  He  loved  them. 
Generations  of  saints  and  scholars  linked  Reb  Shemuel  with  the 
marvels  of  Sinai.  The  infinite  network  of  ceremonial  never 
hampered  his  soul ;  it  was  his  jo3'ous  privilege  to  obey  his  Father 
in  all  things  and  like  the  king  who  offered  to  reward  the  man 
who  invented  a  new  pleasure,  he  was  ready  to  embrace  the  sage 
who  could  deduce  a  new  commandment.  He  rose  at  four  every 
morning  to  study,  and  snatched  every  odd  moment  he  could 
during  the  day.  Rabbi  Meir,  that  ancient  ethical  teacher,  wrote  : 
"  Whosoever  labors  in  the  Torah  for  its  own  sake,  the  whole 
world  is  indebted  to  him  ;  he  is  called  friend,  beloved,  a  lover  of 
the  All-present,  a  lover  of  mankind  ;  it  clothes  him  in  meekness 
and  reverence ;  it  fits  him  to  become  just,  pious,  upright  and 
faithful ;  he  becomes  modest,  long-suffering  and  forgiving  of 
insult." 

Reb  Shemuel  would  have  been  scandalized  if  any  one  had 
applied  these  words  to  him. 

At  about  eleven  o''clock  Hannah  came  into  the  room,  an  open 
letter  in  her  hand. 

"  Father,"  she  said,  "  I  have  just  had  a  letter  from  Samuel 
Levine." 

"Your  husband?''  he  said,  looking  up  with  a  smile. 

"My  husband,"  she  replied,  with  a  fainter  smile. 

"  And  what  does  he  say  ?  " 

"  It  isn't  a  very  serious  letter ;  he  only  wants  to  reassure  me 
that  he  is  coming  back  by  Sunday  week  to  be  divorced." 

"All  right;  tell  him  it  shall  be  done  at  cost  price,"  he  said, 
with  the  foreign  accent  that  made  him  somehow  seem  more 
lovable  to  his  daughter  when  he  spoke  English.  "  He  shall 
only  be  charged  for  the  scribe." 

"  He'll  take  that  for  granted,"  Hannah  replied.  ''  Fathers  are 
expected  to  do  these  little  things  for  their  own  children.  But 
how  much  nicer  it  would  be  if  you  could  give  me  the  Gett 
yourself." 

"  I  would  marry  you  with  pleasure,"  said  Reb  Shemuel,  "  but 


96  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

divorce  is  another  matter.  The  Din  has  too  much  regard  for  a 
father's  feelings  to  allow  that." 

"And  you  really  think  I  am  Sam  Levine's  wife?" 

"  How  many  times  shall  I  tell  you  ?  Some  authorities  do  take 
the  intention  into  account,  but  the  letter  of  the  law  is  clearly 
against  you.     It  is  far  safer  to  be  formally  divorced." 

"  Then  if  he  were  to  die  —  " 

"  Save  us  and  grant  us  peace,"  interrupted  the  Reb  in  horror. 

"  I  should  be  his  widow." 

"Yes,  I  suppose  you  would.  But  what  Na?'rischkeit I  Why 
should  he  die?  It  isn't  as  if  you  were  really  married  to  him," 
said  the  Reb,  his  eye  twinkling. 

"  But  isn't  it  all  absurd,  father?  " 

"  Do  not  talk  so,"  said  Reb  Shemuel,  resuming  his  gravity. 
"  Is  it  absurd  that  you  should  be  scorched  if  you  play  with  fire?  " 

Hannah  did  not  reply  to  the  question. 

"  You  never  told  me  how  you  got  on  at  Manchester,"  she 
said.     "  Did  you  settle  the  dispute  satisfactorily?" 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  the  Reb ;  "  but  it  was  very  difficult.  Both 
parties  were  so  envenomed,  and  it  seems  that  the  feud  has  been 
going  on  in  the  congregation  ever  since  the  Day  of  Atonement, 
when  the  minister  refused  to  blow  the  SJiofar  three  minutes 
too  early,  as  the  President  requested.  The  Treasurer  sided  with 
the  minister,  and  there  has  almost  been  a  split." 

"  The  sounding  of  the  New  Year  trumpet  seems  often  to  be 
the  signal  for  war,"  said  Hannah,  sarcastically. 

"  It  is  so,"  said  the  Reb,  sadly. 

"  And  how  did  you  repair  the  breach  ?  " 

"Just  by  laughing  at  both  sides.  They  would  have  turned  a 
deaf  ear  to  reasoning.  I  told  them  that  Midrash  about  Jacob's 
journey  to  Laban." 

"  What  is  that  ?  " 

"  Oh,  it's  an  amplification  of  the  Biblical  narrative.  The  verse 
in  Genesis  says  that  he  lighted  on  the  place,  and  he  put  up  there 
for  the  night  because  the  sun  had  set,  and  he  took  of  the  stones 
of  the  place  and  he  made  them  into  pillows.  But  later  on  it  says 
that  he  rose  up  in  the  morning  and  he  took  the  stone  which  he 


THE  NEO-HEBREW  POET.  97 

had  put  as  his  pillows.  Now  what  is  the  explanation?"  Reb 
Shemuers  tone  became  momently  more  sing-song :  "  In  the 
night  the  stones  quarrelled  for  the  honor  of  supporting  the 
Patriarch's  head,  and  so  by  a  miracle  tltey  were  turned  into  one 
stone  to  satisfy  them  all.  Now  you  remember  that  when  Jacob 
arose  in  the  morning  he  said :  '  How  fearful  is  this  place ;  this 
is  none  other  than  the  House  of  God.'  So  I  said  to  the  wran- 
glers:  'Why  did  Jacob  say  that?  He  said  it  because  his  rest 
had  been  so  disturbed  by  the  quarrelling  stones  that  it  reminded 
him  of  the  House  of  God  —  the  Synagogue.'  I  pointed  out 
how  much  better  it  would  be  if  they  ceased  their  quarrellings  and 
became  one  stone.  And  so  I  made  peace  again  in  the  Ke]iil- 
lahP 

"  Till  next  year,"  said  Hannah,  laughing.  "  But,  father,  I 
have  often  wondered  why  they  allow  the  ram's  horn  in  the  ser- 
vice.    I  thought  all  musical  instruments  were  forbidden." 

"It  is  not  a  musical  instrument  —  in  practice,"  said  the  Reb, 
with  evasive  facetiousness.  And,  indeed,  the  performers  were 
nearly  always  incompetent,  marring  the  solemnity  of  great  mo- 
ments by  asthmatic  wheezings  and  thin  far-away  tootlings. 

'■  But  it  would  be  if  we  had  trained  trumpeters,"  persisted 
Hannah,  smiling. 

"  If  you  really  want  the  explanation,  it  is  that  since  the  fall  of 
the  second  Temple  we  have  dropped  out  of  our  worship  all  musi- 
cal instruments  connected  with  the  old  Temple  worship,  espe- 
cially such  as  have  become  associated  with  Christianity.  But 
the  ram's  horn  on  the  New  Year  is  an  institution  older  than  the 
Temple,  and  specially  enjoined  in  the  Bible." 

"  But  surely  there  is  something  spiritualizing  about  an  organ." 

For  reply  the  Reb  pinched  her  ear.  "  Ah,  you  are  a  sad 
Epikoiiros^''  he  said,  half  seriously.  "  If  you  loved  God  you 
would  not  want  an  organ  to  take  your  thoughts  to  heaven." 

He  released  her  ear  and  took  up  his  pen,  humming  with  unc- 
tion a  synagogue  air  full  of  joyous  flourishes. 

Hannah  turned  to  go,  then  turned  back. 

"Father,"  she  said  nervously,  blushing  a  little,  "who  was 
that  you  said  you  had  in  your  eye  ? " 

H 


98  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

"  Oh,  nobody  in  particular,"  said  the  Reb,  equally  embarrassed 
and  avoiding  meeting  her  eye,  as  if  to  conceal  the  person  in 
his. 

"  But  you  must  have  meant  something  by  it,"  she  said  gravely. 
"  You  know  Fm  not  going  to  be  married  off  to  please  other 
people." 

The  Reb  wriggled  uncomfortably  in  his  chair.  "  It  was  only 
a  thought  —  an  idea.  If  it  does  not  come  to  you,  too,  it  shall  be 
nothing.  I  didn't  mean  anything  serious  —  really,  my  dear,  I 
didn't.  To  tell  you  the  truth,"  he  finished  suddenly  with  a  frank, 
heavenly  smile,  "  the  person  I  had  mainly  in  my  eye  when  I 
spoke  was  your  mother." 

This  time  his  eye  met  hers,  and  they  smiled  at  each  other  with 
the  consciousness  of  the  humors  of  the  situation.  The  Reb- 
bitzin's  broom  was  heard  banging  viciously  in  the  passage. 
Hannah  bent  down  and  kissed  the  ample  forehead  beneath  the 
black  skull-cap. 

"  Mr.  Levine  also  writes  insisting  that  I  must  go  to  the  Purim 
ball  with  him  and  Leah,"  she  said,  glancing  at  the  letter. 

"  A  husband's  wishes  must  be  obeyed,"  answered  the  Reb. 

"No,  I  will  treat  him  as  if  he  were  really  my  husband,"  re- 
torted Hannah.     "  1  will  have  my  own  way  ;  I  shan't  go." 

The  door  was  thrown  open  suddenly. 

"  Oh  yes  thou  wilt,"  said  the  Rebbitzin.  "  Thou  art  not 
going  to  bury  thyself  alive." 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

ESTHER    AND    HER   CHILDREN. 

Esther  Ansell  did  not  welcome  Levi  Jacobs  warmly.  She 
had  just  cleared  away  the  breakfast  things  and  was  looking  for- 
ward to  a  glorious  day's  reading,  and  the  advent  of  a  visitor  did 
not  gratify  her.  And  yet  Levi  Jacobs  was  a  good-looking  boy 
with  brown  hair  and  eyes,  a  dark  glowing  complexion  and  ruddy 
lips  —  a  sort  of  reduced  masculine  edition  of  Hannah. 


ESTHER  AND  HER    CHILDREN.  99 

"  Tve  come  to  play  I-spy-I,  Solomon/'  he  said  when  he  entered. 
"  My,  don't  you  live  high  up!  " 

"  I  thought  you  had  to  go  to  school,"  Solomon  observed  with 
a  stare. 

"  Ours  isn't  a  board  school,"  Levi  explained.  "  You  might 
introduce  a  fellow  to  your  sister." 

"Garn!  You  know  Esther  right  enough,"  said  Solomon  and 
began  to  whistle  carelessly. 

"How  are  you,  Esther?"  said  Levi  awkwardly. 

"  I'm  very  well,  thank  you,"  said  Esther,  looking  up  from  a 
little  brown-covered  book  and  looking  down  at  it  again. 

She  was  crouching  on  the  fender  trying  to  get  some  warmth  at 
the  little  fire  extracted  from  Reb  Shemuel's  half-crown.  Decem- 
ber continued  gray ;  the  room  was  dim  and  a  spurt  of  flame 
played  on  her  pale  earnest  face.  It  was  a  face  that  never  lost  a 
certain  ardency  of  color  even  at  its  palest :  the  hair  was  dark  and 
abundant,  the  eyes  were  large  and  thoughtful,  the  nose  slightly 
aquiline  and  the  whole  cast  of  the  features  betrayed  the  Polish 
origin.  The  forehead  was  rather  low.  Esther  had  nice  teeth 
which  accident  had  preserved  white.  It  was  an  arrestive  rather 
than  a  beautiful  face,  though  charming  enough  when  she  smiled. 
If  the  grace  and  candor  of  childhood  could  have  been  disengaged 
from  the  face,  it  would  have  been  easier  to  say  whether  it  was 
absolutely  pretty.  It  came  nearer  being  so  on  Sabbaths  and 
holidays  when  scholastic  supervision  was  removed  and  the  hair 
was  free  to  fall  loosely  about  the  shoulders  instead  of  being  screwed 
up  into  the  pendulous  plait  so  dear  to  the  educational  eye. 
Esther  could  have  earned  a  penny  quite  easily  by  sacrificing  her 
tresses  and  going  about  with  close-cropped  head  like  a  boy,  for 
her  teacher  never  failed  thus  to  reward  the  shorn,  but  in  the 
darkest  hours  of  hunger  she  held  on  to  her  hair  as  her  mother 
had  done  before  her.  The  prospects  of  Esther's  post-nuptial 
wig  were  not  brilliant.  She  was  not  tall  for  a  girl  who  is  get- 
ting on  for  twelve  ;  but  some  little  girls  shoot  up  suddenly  and 
there  was  considerable  room  for  hope. 

Sarah  and  Isaac  were  romping  noisily  about  and  under  the 
beds  ;  Rachel  was  at  the  table,  knitting  a  scarf  for  Solomon  ;  the 


100  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

grandmother  pored  over  a  bulky  enchiridion  for  pious  women, 
written  in  jargon.  Moses  was  out  in  search  of  work.  No  one 
took  any  notice  of  the  visitor. 

"What's  that  youVe  reading?"  he  asked  Esther  politely. 

"  Oh  nothing,"  said  Esther  with  a  start,  closing  the  book  as 
if  fearful  he  might  want  to  look  over  her  shoulder. 

"  I  don't  see  the  fun  of  reading  books  out  of  school,"  said 
Levi. 

"Oh,  but  we  don't  read  school  books,"  said  Solomon 
defensively. 

"I  don't  care.     It's  stupid." 

"  At  that  rate  you  could'  never  read  books  when  you're  grown 
up,"  said  Esther  contemptuously. 

"  No,  of  course  not,"  admitted  Levi.  "  Otherwise  where 
would  be  the  fun  of  being  grown  up?  After  I  leave  school  I 
don't  intend  to  open  a  book." 

"No?     Perhaps  you'll  open  a  shop,"  said  Solomon. 

"  What  will  you  do  when  it  rains?"  asked  Esther  crushingly. 

"  I  shall  smoke,"  replied  Levi  loftily. 

"  Yes,  but  suppose  it's  Shabbos^''  swiftly  rejoined  Esther. 

Levi  was  nonplussed.  "Well,  it  can't  rain  all  day  and  there 
are  only  fifty-two  SJiabbosim  in  the  year,"'  he  said  lamely.  "A 
man  can  always  do  something." 

"  I  think  there's  more  pleasure  in  reading  than  in  doing  some- 
thing," remarked  Esther. 

"Yes,  you're  a  girl,"  Levi  reminded  her,  "and  girls  are  ex- 
pected to  stay  indoors.  Look  at  my  sister  Hannah.  She  reads, 
too.  But  a  man  can  be  out  doing  what  he  pleases,  eh,  Solo- 
mon?" 

"  Yes,  of  course  we've  got  the  best  of  it,"  said  Solomon. 
"The  Prayer-book  shows  that.  Don't  I  say  every  morning 
'■  Blessed  art  Thou,  O  Lord  our  God,  who  hast  not  made  me  a 
woman ' ? " 

"  I  don't  know  whether  you  do  say  it.  You  certainly  have  got 
to,"  said  Esther  witheringly. 

"'Sh,"  said  Solomon,  winking  in  the  direction  of  the  grand- 
mother. 


ESTHER  AND  HER    CHILDREN.  101 

"  It  doesn't  matter/'  said  Esther  calmly.  "  She  can't  under- 
stand what  Fm  saying." 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Solomon  dubiously.  "  She  sometimes 
catches  more  than  you  bargain  for." 

"  And  then  yoii  catch  more  than  you  bargain  for,"  said  Rachel, 
looking  up  roguishly  from  her  knitting. 

Solomon  stuck  his  tongue  in  his  cheek  and  grimaced. 

Isaac  came  behind  Levi  and  gave  his  coat  a  pull  and  toddled 
off  with  a  yell  of  delight. 

"  Be  quiet,  Ikey !  "  cried  Esther.  "  If  you  don't  behave  better 
I  shan't  sleep  in  your  new  bed." 

"Oh  yeth,  you  mutht,  Ethty,"  lisped  Ikey,  his  elfish  face 
growing  grave.     He  went  about  depressed  for  some  seconds. 

"  Kids  are  a  beastly  nuisance,"  said  Levi,  "  don't  you  think  so, 
Esther?" 

"  Oh  no,  not  always,"  said  the  little  girl.  "  Besides  we  were 
all  kids  once." 

"That's  what  I  complain  of,"  said  Levi.  "We  ought  to  be 
all  born  grown-up." 

"  But  that's  impossible ! "  put  in  Rachel. 

"It  isn't  impossible  at  all,"  said  Esther.  "  Look  at  Adam  and 
Eve!" 

Levi  looked  at  Esther  gratefully  instead.  He  felt  nearer  to 
her  and  thought  of  persuading  her  into  playing  Kiss-in-the-Ring. 
But  he  found  it  difficult  to  back  out  of  his  undertaking  to  play 
I-spy-I  with  Solomon ;  and  in  the  end  he  had  to  leave  Esther 
to  her  book. 

She  had  little  in  common  witli  her  brother  Solomon,  least  of 
all  humor  and  animal  spirits.  Even  before  the  responsibilities 
of  headship  had  come  upon  her  she  was  a  preternaturally  thought- 
ful little  girl  who  had  strange  intuitions  about  things  and  was 
doomed  to  work  out  her  own  salvation  as  a  metaphysician. 
When  she  asked  her  mother  who  made  God,  a  slap  in  the  face 
demonstrated  to  her  the  limits  of  human  inquiry.  The  natural 
instinct  of  the  child  over-rode  the  long  travail  of  the  race  to  con- 
ceive an  abstract  Deity,  and  Esther  pictured  God  as  a  mammoth 
cloud.     In  early  years  Esther  imagined  that  the  "body"  that 


102  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

was  buried  when  a  person  died  was  the  corpse  decapitated  and 
she  often  puzzled  herself  to  think  what  was  done  with  the  iso- 
lated head.  When  her  mother  was  being  tied  up  in  grave-clothes, 
Esther  hovered  about  with  a  real  thirst  for  knowledge  while  the 
thoughts  of  all  the  other  children  were  sensuously  concentrated 
on  the  funeral  and  the  glory  of  seeing  a  vehicle  drive  away  from 
their  own  door.  Esther  w'as  also  disappointed  at  not  seeing  her 
mother's  soul  fly  up  to  heaven  though  she  watched  vigilantly  at 
the  death-bed  for  the  ascent  of  the  long  yellow  hook-shaped 
thing.  The  genesis  of  this  conception  of  the  soul  was  probably 
to  be  sought  in  the  pictorial  representations  of  ghosts  in  the 
story-papers  brought  home  by  her  eldest  brother  Benjamin. 
Strange  shadowy  conceptions  of  things  more  corporeal  floated 
up  from  her  solitary  reading.  Theatres  she  came  across  often, 
and  a  theatre  was  a  kind  of  Babel  plain  or  Vanity  Fair  in  which 
performers  and  spectators  were  promiscuously  mingled  and 
wherein  the  richer  folk  clad  in  evening  dress  sat  in  thin  deal 
boxes  —  the  cases  in  Spitalfields  market  being  Esther's  main  as- 
sociation with  boxes.  One  of  her  day-dreams  of  the  future  was 
going  to  the  theatre  in  a  night-gown  and  being  accommodated 
with  an  orange-box.  Little  rectification  of  such  distorted  views 
of  life  was  to  be  expected  from  Moses  Ansell,  who  went  down  to 
his  grave  without  seeing  even  a  circus,  and  had  no  interest  in  art 
apart  from  the  ''  Police  News"  and  his  "  Mizrach  "'  and  the  syn- 
agogue decorations.  Even  when  Esther's  sceptical  instinct 
drove  her  to  inquire  of  her  father  how  people  knew  that  Moses 
got  the  Law  on  Mount  Sinai,  he  could  only  repeat  in  horror  that 
the  Books  of  Moses  said  so.  and  could  never  be  brought  to  see 
that  his  arguments  travelled  on  roundabouts.  She  sometimes 
regretted  that  her  brilliant  brother  Benjamin  had  been  swallowed 
up  by  the  orphan  asylum,  for  she  imagined  she  could  have  dis- 
cussed many  a  knotty  point  with  him.  Solomon  was  both  flip- 
pant and  incompetent.  But  in  spite  of  her  theoretical  latitudi- 
narianism,  in  practice  she  was  pious  to  the  point  of  fanaticism  and 
could  scarce  conceive  tlie  depths  of  degradation  of  which  she 
heard  vague  horror-struck  talk.  There  were  Jews  about  — 
grown-up   men   and    women,    not   insane  —  who    struck    lucifer 


ESTHER  AND  HER    CHILDREN.  103 

matches  on  the  Sabbath  and  housewives  who  carelessly  mixed 
their  butter-plates  with  their  meat-plates  even  when  they  did  not 
actually  eat  butter  with  meat.  Esther  promised  herself  that, 
please  God,  she  would  never  do  anything^  so  wicked  when  she 
grew  up.  She  at  least  would  never  fail  to  light  the  Sabbath  can- 
dles nor  to  kasher  the  meat.  Never  was  child  more  alive  to  the 
beauty  of  duty,  more  open  to  the  appeal  of  virtue,  self-control, 
abnegation.  She  fasted  till  two  o'clock  on  the  Great  White 
Fast  when  she  was  seven  years  old  and  accomplished  the 
perfect  feat  at  nine.  When  she  read  a  simple  little  story  in  a 
prize-book,  inculcating  the  homely  moralities  at  which  the 
cynic  sneers,  her  eyes  filled  with  tears  and  her  breast  with  unsel- 
fish and  dutiful  determinations.  She  had  something  of  the  tem- 
perament of  the  stoic,  fortified  by  that  spiritual  pride  which 
does  not  look  for  equal  goodness  in  others  ;  and  though  she 
disapproved  of  Solomon's  dodgings  of  duty,  she  did  not 
sneak  or  preach,  even  gave  him  surreptitious  crusts  of  bread 
before  he  had  said  his  prayers,  especially  on  Saturdays  and 
Festivals  when  the  praying  took  place  in  Shool  and  was  liable 
to  be  prolonged  till  mid-day. 

Esther  often  went  to  synagogue  and  sat  in  the  ladies'  com- 
partment. The  drone  of  the  "Sons  of  the  Convenant ''  down- 
stairs was  part  of  her  consciousness  of  home,  like  the  musty 
smell  of  the  stairs,  or  Becky's  young  men  through  whom  she 
had  to  plough  her  way  when  she  went  for  the  morning  milk, 
or  the  odors  of  Mr.  Belcovitch's  rum  or  the  whirr  of  his  ma- 
chines, or  the  bent,  snuffy  personality  of  the  Hebrew  scholar 
in  the  adjoining  garret,  or  the  dread  of  Dutch  Debby's  dog 
that  was  ultimately  transformed  to  friendly  expectation.  Esther 
led  a  double  life,  just  as  she  spoke  two  tongues.  ■  The  knowl- 
edge that  she  was  a  Jewish  child,  whose  people  had  had  a 
special  history,  was  always  at  the  back  of  her  consciousness ; 
sometimes  it  was  brought  to  the  front  by  the  scoffing  rhymes 
of  Christian  children,  who  informed  her  that  they  had  stuck 
a  piece  of  pork  upon  a  fork  and  given  it  to  a  member  of  her 
race. 

But  far  more  vividly  did   she   realize  that  she  was  an  Eng- 


104  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

lish  girl ;  far  keener  than  her  pride  in  Judas  Maccabeus  was 
her  pride  in  Nelson  and  Wellington;  she  rejoiced  to  find  that 
her  ancestors  had  always  beaten  the  French  from  the  days  of 
Cressy  and  Poictiers  to  the  days  of  Waterloo,  that  Alfred  the 
Great  was  the  wisest  of  kings,  and  that  Englishmen  dominated 
the  world  and  had  planted  colonies  in  every  corner  of  it,  that 
the  English  language  was  the  noblest  in  the  world  and  men 
speaking  it  had  invented  railway  trains,  steamships,  telegraphs, 
and  everything  worth  inventing.  Esther  absorbed  these  ideas 
from  the  school  reading  books.  The  experience  of  a  month 
will  overlay  the  hereditary  bequest  of  a  century.  And  yet, 
beneath  all,  the  prepared  plate  remains  most  sensitive  to  the 
old  impressions. 

Sarah  and  Isaac  had  developed  as  distinct  individualities  as 
was  possible  in  the  time  at  their  disposal.  Isaac  was  just  five 
and  Sarah  —  who  had  never  known  her  mother  —  just  four. 
The  thoughts  of  both  ran  strongly  in  the  direction  of  sensu- 
ous enjoyment,  and  they  preferred  baked  potatoes,  especially 
potatoes  touched  with  gravy,  to  all  the  joys  of  the  kindergarten. 
Isaac's  ambition  ran  in  the  direction  of  eider-down  beds  such 
as  he  had  once  felt  at  Malka's  and  Moses  soothed  him  by  the 
horizon-like  prospect  of  such  a  new  bed.  Places  of  honor  had 
already  been  conceded  by  the  generous  little  chap  to  his  father 
and  brother.  Heaven  alone  knows  how  he  had  come  to  con- 
ceive their  common  bed  as  his  own  peculiar  property  in  which 
the  other  three  resided  at  night  on  sufferance.  He  could  not 
even  plead  it  was  his  by  right  of  birth  in  it.  But  Isaac  was  not 
after  all  wholly  given  over  to  worldly  thoughts,  for  an  intellectual 
problem  often  occupied  his  thoughts  and  led  him  to  slap  little 
Sarah's  arms.  He  had  been  born  on  the  4th  of  December  while 
Sarah  had  been  born  a  year  later  on  the  3d. 

"  It  ain't,  it  can't  be,''  he  would  say.  "  Your  birfday  can't  be 
afore  mine.'' 

" 'Tis,  Esty  thays  so,"*  Sarah  would  reply. 

"  Esty's  a  liar,"'  Isaac  responded  imperturbably. 

"Ask  Tat  ah  y 

^^Tatah  dunno.     Ain't  I  five  ?" 


ESTHER  AND  HER    CHILDREN.  105 

«Yeth." 

"  And  ain't  you  four  ? " 

"Yeth/' 

"  And  ain't  I  older  than  you  ?  " 

"Courth." 

"  And  wasn't  I  born  afore  you  ?  " 

"  Yeth,  Ikey." 

"  Then  'ow  can  your  birfday  come  afore  mine  ?  " 

"'Cos  it  doth." 

"  Stoopid ! " 

"  It  doth,  arx  Esty,"  Sarah  would  insist. 

"  Than't  teep  in  my  new  bed,"  Ikey  would  threaten. 

"  Thall  if  I  like." 

"  Than't !  " 

Here  Sarah  would  generally  break  down  in  tears  and  Isaac 
with  premature  economic  instinct,  feeling  it  wicked  to  waste  a 
cry,  would  proceed  to  justify  it  by  hitting  her.  Thereupon  little 
Sarah  would  hit  him  back  and  develop  a  terrible  howl. 

"  Hi,  woe  is  unto  me,"  she  would  wail  in  jargon,  throwing 
herself  on  the  ground  in  a  corner  and  rocking  herself  to  and 
fro  like  her  far-away  ancestresses  remembering  Zion  by  the 
waters  of  Babylon. 

Little  Sarah's  lamentations  never  ceased  till  she  had  been 
avenged  by  a  higlier  hand.  There  were  several  great  powers 
but  Esther  was  the  most  trusty  instrument  of  reprisal.  If 
Esther  was  out  little  Sarah's  sobs  ceased  speedily,  for  she, 
too,  felt  the  folly  of  fruitless  tears.  Though  she  nursed  in  her 
breast  the  sense  of  injury,  she  would  even  resume  her  amicable 
romps  with  Isaac.  But  the  moment  the  step  of  the  avenger  was 
heard  on  the  stairs,  little  Sarah  would  betake  herself  to  the 
corner  and  howl  with  the  pain  of  Isaac's  pummellings.  She 
had  a  strong  love  of  abstract  justice  and  felt  that  if  the  wrong- 
doer were  to  go  unpunished,  there  was  no  security  for  the  con- 
stitution of  things. 

To-day's  holiday  did  not  pass  without  an  outbreak  of  this 
sort.  It  occurred  about  tea-time.  Perhaps  the  infants  were 
fractious  because  there  was  no  tea.     Esther  had  to  economize 


106  CHILDREN   OF   THE    GHETTO. 

her  resources  and  a  repast  at  seven  would  serve  for  both  tea  and 
supper.  Among  the  poor,  combination  meals  are  as  common 
as  combination  beds  and  chests.  Esther  had  quieted  Sarah  by 
slapping  Isaac,  but  as  this  made  Isaac  howl  the  gain  was  dubious. 
She  had  to  put  a  fresh  piece  of  coal  on  the  fire  and  sing  to  them 
while  their  shadows  contorted  themselves  grotesquely  on  the 
beds  and  then  upwards  along  the  sloping  walls,  terminating  with 
twisted  necks  on  the  ceiling. 

Esther  usually  sang  melancholy  things  in  minor  keys.  They 
seemed  most  attuned  to  the  dim  straggling  room.  There  was  a 
song  her  mother  used  to  sing.  It  was  taken  from  a  Purim-Spiel., 
itself  based  upon  a  Midrash,  one  of  the  endless  legends  with 
which  the  People  of  One  Book  have  broidered  it,  amplifying 
every  minute  detail  with  all  the  exuberance  of  oriental  imagina- 
tion and  justifying  their  fancies  with  all  the  ingenuity  of  a  race 
of  lawyers.  After  his  brethren  sold  Joseph  to  the  Midianite 
merchants,  the  lad  escaped  from  the  caravan  and  wandered  foot- 
sore and  hungry  to  Bethlehem,  to  the  grave  of  his  mother,  Rachel. 
And  he  threw  himself  upon  the  ground  and  wept  aloud  and  sang 
to  a  heart-breaking  melody  in  Yiddish. 

Und  hei  weh  ist  mir, 
Wie  schlecht  ist  doch  mir, 
Ich  bin  vertrieben  geworen 
Junger  held  voon  dir. 

Whereof  the  English  runs  : 

Alas !  woe  is  me ! 
How  wretched  to  be 
Driven  away  and  banished, 
Yet  so  young,  from  thee. 

Thereupon  the  voice  of  his  beloved  mother  Rachel  was  heard 
from  the  grave,  comforting  him  and  bidding  him  be  of  good 
cheer,  for  that  his  future  should  be  great  and  glorious. 

Esther  could  not  sing  this  without  the  tears  trickling  down 
her  cheeks.  Was  it  that  she  thought  of  her  own  dead  mother 
and  applied  the  lines  to  herself?  Isaac's  ill-humor  scarcely  ever 
survived  the  anodvne  of  these  mournful  cadences.     There  was 


ESTHER  AND  HER    CHILDREN.  107 

another  melodious  wail  which  Alte  Belcovitch  had  brought  from 
Poland.     The  chorus  ran  : 

Man  nemt  awek  die  chasanim  voon  die  callohs 
Hi,  hi,  did-a-rid-a-ree! 

They  tear  away  their  lovers  from  the  maidens, 
Hi,  hi,  did-a-rid-a-ree! 

The  air  mingled  the  melancholy  of  Polish  music  with  the  sad- 
ness of  Jewish  and  the  words  hinted  of  God  knew  what 

"  Old  unhappy  far-off  things 
And  battles  long  ago." 

And  so  over  all  the  songs  and  stories  was  the  trail  of  tragedy, 
under  all  the  heart-ache  of  a  hunted  race.  There  are  few  more 
plaintive  chants  in  the  world  than  the  recitation  of  the  Psalms 
by  the  ''Sons  of  the  Covenant^'  on  Sabbath  afternoons  amid 
the  gathering  shadows  of  twilight.  Esther  often  stood  in  the 
passage  to  hear  it,  morbidly  fascinated,  tears  of  pensive  pleasure 
in  her  eyes.  Even  the  little  jargon  story-book  which  Moses 
Ansell  read  out  that  night  to  his  Kinder.^  after  tea-supper,  by  the 
light  of  the  one  candle,  was  prefaced  with  a  note  of  pathos. 
"  These  stories  have  we  gathered  together  from  the  Gemorah 
and  the  Midrash,  wonderful  stories,  and  we  have  translated  the 
beautiful  stories,  using  the  Hebrew  alphabet  so  that  every  one, 
little  or  big,  shall  be  able  to  read  them,  and  shall  know  that 
there  is  a  God  in  the  world  who  forsaketh  not  His  people  Israel 
and  who  even  for  us  will  likewise  work  miracles  and  wonders 
and  will  send  us  the  righteous  Redeemer  speedily  in  our  days, 
Amen."  Of  this  same  Messiah  the  children  heard  endless  tales. 
Oriental  fancy  had  been  exhausted  in  picturing  him  for  the  con- 
solation of  exiled  and  suffering  Israel.  Before  his  days  there 
would  be  a  wicked  Messiah  of  the  House  of  Joseph  ;  later,  a 
king  with  one  ear  deaf  to  hear  good  but  acute  to  hear  evil ; 
there  would  be  a  scar  on  his  forehead,  one  of  his  hands  would 
be  an  inch  long  and  the  other  three  miles,  apparently  a  subtle 
symbol  of  the  persecutor.  The  jargon  story-book  among  its 
''stories,  wonderful  stories,"  had  also  extracts  from  the  famous 


108  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

romance,  or  diary,  of  Eldad  the  Danite,  who  professed  to  have 
discovered  the  lost  Ten  Tribes.  Eldad's  book  appeared  towards 
the  end  of  the  ninth  century  and  became  the  Arabian  Nights  of 
the  Jews,  and  it  had  filtered  down  through  the  ages  into  the 
Ansell  garret,  in  common  with  many  other  tales  from  the  rich 
storehouse  of  mediaeval  folk-lore  in  the  diffusion  of  which  the 
wandering  Jew  has  played  so  great  a  part. 

Sometimes  Moses  read  to  his  charmed  hearers  the  description 
of  Heaven  and  Hell  by  Immanuel,  the  friend  and  contemporary 
of  Dante,  sometimes  a  jargon  version  of  Robinson  Crusoe.  To- 
night he  chose  Eldad's  account  of  the  tribe  of  Moses  dwelling 
beyond  the  wonderful  river,  Sambatyon,  which  never  flows  on 
the  Sabbath. 

"  There  is  also  the  tribe  of  Moses,  our  just  master,  which  is 
called  the  tribe  that  flees,  because  it  fled  from  idol  worship  and 
clung  to  the  fear  of  God.  A  river  flows  round  their  land  for  a 
distance  of  four  days'  journey  on  every  side.  They  dwell  in 
beautiful  houses  provided  with  handsome  towers,  which  they 
have  built  themselves.  There  is  nothing  unclean  among  them, 
neither  in  the  case  of  birds,  venison  nor  domesticated  animals ; 
there  are  no  wild  animals,  no  flies,  no  foxes,  no  vermin,  no  ser- 
pents, no  dogs,  and  in  general,  nothing  which  does  harm  ;  they 
have  only  sheep  and  cattle,  which  bear  twice  a  year.  They  sow 
and  reap;  there  are  all' sorts  of  gardens,  with  all  kinds  of  fmits 
and  cereals,  viz.  :  beans,  melons,  gourds,  onions,  garlic,  wheat  and 
barley,  and  the  seed  grows  a  hundred  fold.  They  have  faith; 
they  know  the  Law,  the  Mishnah,  the  Talmud  and  the  Agadah ; 
but  their  Talmud  is  in  Hebrew.  They  introduce  their  sayings 
in  the  name  of  the  fathers,  the  wise  men,  who  heard  them 
from  the  mouth  of  Joshua,  who  himself  heard  them  from  the 
mouth  of  God.  They  have  no  knowledge  of  the  Tanaim  (doc- 
tors of  the  Mishnah)  and  Amoraim  (doctors  of  the  Talmud), 
who  flourished  during  the  time  of  the  second  Temple,  which  was, 
of  course,  not  known  to  these  tribes.  They  speak  only  Hebrew, 
and  are  very  strict  as  regards  the  use  of  wine  made  by  others 
than  themselves,  as  well  as  the  rules  of  slaughtering  animals  ;  in 
this  respect  the  La\y  of  Moses  is  much  more  rigorous  than  that  of 


ESTHER   AND  HER    CHfLDREN.  109 

the  Tribes.  They  do  not  swear  by  the  name  of  God,  for  fear 
that  their  breath  may  leave  them,  and  they  become  angry  with 
those  who  swear ;  they  reprimand  tliem,  saying,  '  Woe,  ye  poor, 
why  do  you  swear  with  the  mention  of  the  name  of  God  upon 
your  lips?  Use  your  mouth  for  eating  bread  and  drinking  water. 
Do  you  not  know  that  for  the  sin  of  swearing  your  children  die 
young  ? '  And  in  this  way  they  exhort  every  one  to  serve  God 
with  fear  and  integrity  of  heart.  Therefore,  the  children  of 
Moses,  the  servant  of  God,  live  long,  to  the  age  of  loo  or  120 
years.  No  child,  be  it  son  or  daughter,  dies  during  the  lifetime 
of  its  parent,  but  they  reach  a  third  and  a  fourth  generation, 
and  see  grandchildren  and  great-grandchildren  with  their  off- 
spring. They  do  all  field  work  themselves,  having  no  male 
or  female  servants;  there  are  also  merchants  among  them. 
They  do  not  close  their  houses  at  night,  for  there  is  no  thief 
nor  any  wicked  man  among  them.  Thus  a  little  lad  might  go 
for  days  with  his  flock  without  fear  of  robbers,  demons  or  dan- 
ger of  any  other  kind;  they  are,  indeed,  all  holy  and  clean. 
These  Levites  busy  themselves  with  the  Law  and  with  the  com- 
mandments, and  they  still  live  in  the  holiness  of  our  master, 
Moses  ;  therefore,  God  has  given  them  all  this  good.  Moreover, 
they  see  nobody  and  nobody  sees  them,  e.xcept  the  four  tribes 
who  dwell  on  the  other  side  of  the  rivers  of  Gush  ;  they  see  them 
and  speak  to  them,  but  the  river  Sambatyon  is  between  them,  as 
it  is  said  :  '  That  thou  mayest  say  to  prisoners.  Go  forth  "  (Isaiah 
xlix.,  9).  They  have  plenty  of  gold  and  silver;  they  sow  flax 
and  cultivate  the  crimson  worm,  and  make  beautiful  garments. 
Their  number  is  double  or  four  times  the  number  that  went  out 
from  Egypt. 

"  The  river  Sambatyon  is  200  yards  broad  — '  about  as  far  as 
a  bowshot '  (Gen.  xxi.,  16),  full  of  sand  and  stones,  but  without 
water ;  the  stones  make  a  great  noise  like  the  waves  of  the  sea 
and  a  stormy  wind,  so  that  in  the  night  the  noise  is  heard  at 
a  distance  of  half  a  day^s  journey.  There  are  sources  of  water 
which  collect  themselves  in  one  pool,  out  of  which  they  water 
the  fields.  There  are  fish  in  it,  and  all  kinds  of  clean  birds  fly 
round  it.     And  this  river  of  stone  and  sand  rolls  during  the  six 


110  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

working  days  and  rests  on  the  Sabbath  day.  As  soon  as  the 
Sabbath  begins  fire  surrounds  the  river  and  the  flames  remain 
till  the  next  evening,  when  the  Sabbath  ends.  Thus  no  human 
being  can  reach  the  river  for  a  distance  of  half  a  mile  on  either 
side;  the  fire  consumes  all  that  grows  there.  The  four  tribes, 
Dan,  Naphtali,  Gad  and  Asher,  stand  on  the  borders  of  the 
river.  When  shearing  their  flocks  here,  for  the  land  is  flat  and 
clean  without  any  thorns,  if  the  children  of  Moses  see  them 
gathered  together  on  the  border  they  shout,  saying,  '  Brethren, 
tribes  of  Jeshurun,  show  us  your  camels,  dogs  and  asses,'  and 
they  make  their  remarks  about  the  length  of  the  camel's  neck 
and  the  shortness  of  the  tail.  Then  they  greet  one  another  and 
go  their  way." 

When  this  was  done,  Solomon  called  for  Hell.  He  liked  to 
hear  about  the  punishment  of  the  sinners  ;  it  gave  a  zest  to  life. 
Moses  hardly  needed  a  book  to  tell  them  about  Hell.  It  had 
no  secrets  for  him.  The  Old  Testament  has  no  reference  to  a 
future  existence,  but  the  poor  Jew  has  no  more  been  able  to  live 
without  the  hope  of  Hell  than  the  poor  Christian.  When  the 
wicked  man  has  waxed  fat  and  kicked  the  righteous  skinny  man, 
shall  the  two  lie  down  in  the  same  dust  and  the  game  be  over? 
Perish  the  thought!  One  of  the  Hells  was  that  in  which  the 
sinner  was  condemned  to  do  over  and  over  again  the  sins  he 
had  done  in  life. 

"  Why,  that  must  be  jolly!  "  said  Solomon. 

"  No,  that  is  frightful,"  maintained  Moses  Ansell.  He  spoke 
Yiddish,  the  children  English. 

"Of  course,  it  is,"  said  Esther.  "Just  fancy,  Solomon,  having 
to  eat  toffy  all  day." 

"It's  better  than  eating  nothing  all  day,"  replied  Solomon. 

"But  to  eat  it  every  day  for  ever  and  ever!"  said  Moses. 
"  There's  no  rest  for  the  wicked." 

"What!     Not  even  on  the  Sabbath?"  said  Esther. 

"  Oh,  yes ;  of  course,  then.  Like  the  river  Sambatyon,  even 
the  flames  of  Hell  rest  on  S/iabbosy 

"Haven't  they  got  no  ^re-goyas  f''  inquired  Ikey,  and  every- 
body laughed, 


ESTHER  AND  HER    CHILDREN.  Ill 

"  SJiabbos  is  a  holiday  in  Hell,"  Moses  explained  to  the  little 
one.  "  So  thou  seest  the  result  of  thy  making  out  Sabbath  too 
early  on  Saturday  night,  thou  sendest  the  poor  souls  back  to 
their  tortures  before  the  proper  time." 

Moses  never  lost  an  opportunity  of  enforcing  the  claims  of  the 
ceremonial  law.  Esther  had  a  vivid  picture  flashed  upon  her  of 
poor,  yellow  hook-shaped  souls  floating  sullenly  back  towards  the 
flames. 

Solomon's  chief  respect  for  his  father  sprang  from  the  halo  of 
military  service  encircling  Moses  ever  since  it  leaked  out  through 
the  lips  of  the  Bube,  that  he  had  been  a  conscript  in  Russia  and 
been  brutally  treated  by  the  sergeant.  But  Moses  could  not  be 
got  to  speak  of  his  exploits.  Solomon  pressed  him  to  do  so, 
especially  when  his  father  gave  symptoms  of  inviting  him  to  the 
study  of  Rashi's  Commentary.  To-night  Moses  brought  out  a 
Hebrew  tome,  and  said,  "  Come,  Solomon.  Enough  of  stories. 
We  must  learn  a  little." 

"  To-day  is  a  holiday,"  grumbled  Solomon. 

"It  is  never  a  holiday  for  the  study  of  the  Law." 

"  Only  this  once,  father;  let's  play  draughts." 

Moses  weakly  yielded.  Draughts  was  his  sole  relaxation  and 
when  Solomon  acquired  a  draught  board  by  barter  his  father 
taught  him  the  game.  Moses  played  the  Polish  variety,  in 
which  the  men  are  like  English  kings  that  leap  backwards  and 
forwards  and  the  kings  shoot  diagonally  across  like  bishops  at 
chess.  Solomon  could  not  withstand  these  gigantic  grasshop- 
pers, whose  stopping  places  he  could  never  anticipate.  Moses 
won  every  game  to-night  and  was  full  of  glee  and  told  the  Kinder 
another  story.  It  was  about  the  Emperor  Nicholas  and  is  not 
to  be  found  in  the  official  histories  of  Russia. 

"Nicholas  was  a  wicked  king,  who  oppressed  the  Jews  and 
made  their  lives  sore  and  bitter.  And  one  day  he  made  it 
known  to  the  Jews  that  if  a  million  roubles  were  not  raised  for 
him  in  a  month's  time  they  should  be  driven  from  their  homes. 
Then  the  Jews  prayed  unto  God  and  besought  him  to  help  them 
for  the  merits  of  the  forefathers,  but  no  help  came.  Then  they 
tried  to  bribe  the  officials,  but  the  officials  pocketed  their  gold 


112  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

and  the  Emperor  still  demanded  his  tax.  Then  they  went  to 
the  great  Masters  of  Cabalah,  who,  by  pondering  day  and  night 
on  the  name  and  its  transmutations,  had  won  the  control  of  all 
things,  and  they  said,  'Can  ye  do  naught  for  us?'  Then  the 
Masters  of  Cabalah  took  counsel  together  and  at  midnight  they 
called  up  the  spirits  of  Abraham  our  father,  and  Isaac  and  Jacob, 
and  Elijah  the  prophet,  who  wept  to  hear  of  their  children's 
sorrows.  And  Abraham  our  father,  and  Isaac  and  Jacob,  and 
Elijah  the  prophet  took  the  bed  whereon  Nicholas  the  Emperor 
slept  and  transported  it  to  a  wild  place.  And  they  took  Nicho- 
las the  Emperor  out  of  his  warm  bed  and  whipped  him  soundly 
so  that  he  yelled  for  mercy.  Then  they  asked  :  '  Wilt  thou  re- 
scind the  edict  against  the  Jews?'  And  he  said  M  will.''  But 
in  the  morning  Nicholas  the  Emperor  woke  up  and  called  for 
the  chief  of  the  bed-chamber  and  said,  '  How  darest  thou  allow 
my  bed  to  be  carried  out  in  the  middle  of  the  night  into  the  for- 
est? '  And  the  chief  of  the  bed-chamber  grew  pale  and  said  that 
the  Emperor's  guards  had  watched  all  night  outside  the  door, 
neither  was  there  space  for  the  bed  to  pass  out.  And  Nicholas 
the  Emperor,  thinking  he  had  dreamed,  let  the  man  go  unhung. 
But  the  next  night  lo!  the  bed  was  transported  again  to  the  wild 
place  and  Abraham  our  father,  and  Isaac  and  Jacob,  and  Elijah 
the  prophet  drubbed  him  doubly  and  again  he  promised  to  remit 
the  tax.  So  in  the  morning  the  chief  of  the  bed-chamber  was 
hanged  and  at  night  the  guards  were  doubled.  But  the  bed 
sailed  away  to  the  wild  place  and  Nicholas  the  Emperor  was 
trebly  whipped.  Then  Nicholas  the  Emperor  annulled  the 
edict  and  the  Jews  rejoiced  and  fell  at  the  knees  of  the  Masters 
of  Cabalah." 

"But  why  can't  they  save  the  Jews  altogether?"  queried 
Esther. 

"  Oh,"  said  Moses  mysteriously.  "  Cabalah  is  a  great  force 
and  must  not  be  abused.  The  Holy  Name  must  not  be  made 
common.     Moreover  one  might  lose  one's  life." 

"Could  the  Masters  make  men? "  inquired  Esther,  who  had 
recently  come  across  Frankenstein. 

"  Certainly,"  said  Moses.     "And  what  is  more,  it  stands  writ- 


DUTCH  DEB  BY.  113 

ten  that  Reb  Chanina  and  Reb  Osheya  fashioned  a  fine  fat  calf 
on  Friday  and  enjoyed  it  on  the  Sabbath."" 

"  Oh,  father! ''  said  Solomon,  piteously,  "  don't  you  know 
Cabalah  ?  " 

CHAPTER   IX. 

DUTCH   DEBBY. 

A  YEAR  before  we  got  to  know  Esther  Ansell  she  got  to  know 
Dutch  Debby  and  it  changed  her  hfe.  Dutch  Debby  was  a  tall 
sallow  ungainly  girl  who  lived  in  the  wee  back  room  on  the 
second  floor  behind  Mrs.  Simons  and  supported  herself  and  her 
dog  by  needle-work.  Nobody  ever  came  to  see  her,  for  it  was 
whispered  that  her  parents  had  cast  her  out  when  she  presented 
them  with  an  illegitimate  grandchild.  The  baby  was  fortunate 
enough  to  die,  but  she  still  continued  to  incur  suspicion  by  keep- 
ing a  dog,  which  is  an  un-Jewish  trait.  Bobby  often  squatted  on 
the  stairs  guarding  her  door  and,  as  it  was  very  dark  on  the 
staircase,  Esther  suffered  great  agonies  lest  she  should  tread  on 
his  tail  and  provoke  reprisals.  Her  anxiety  led  her  to  do  so  one 
afternoon  and  Bobby's  teeth  just  penetrated  through  her  stock- 
ing. The  clamor  brought  out  Dutch  Debby,  who  took  the  girl 
into  her  room  and  soothed  her.  Esther  had  often  wondered 
what  uncanny  mysteries  lay  behind  that  dark  dog-guarded  door 
and  she  was  rather  more  afraid  of  Debby  than  of  Bobby. 

But  that  afternoon  saw  the  beginning  of  a  friendship  which 
added  one  to  the  many  factors  which  were  moulding  the  future 
woman.  For  Debby  turned  out  a  very  mild  bogie,  indeed, 
with  a  good  English  vocabulary  and  a  stock  of  old  London 
yonrnals,  more  precious  to  Esther  than  mines  of  Ind.  Debby 
kept  them  under  the  bed,  which,  as  the  size  of  the  bed  all  but 
coincided  with  the  area  of  the  room,  was  a  wise  arrangement. 
And  on  the  long  summer  evenings  and  the  Sunday  afternoons 
when  her  little  ones  needed  no  looking  after  and  were  traipsing 
about  playing  "  whoop!  "  and  pussy-cat  in  the  street  downstairs, 
Esther  slipped  into  the  wee  back  room,  where  the  treasures  lay, 
and  there,  by  the  open  window,  overlooking  the  dingy  back  yard 


114  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

and  the  slanting  perspectives  of  sun-flecked  red  tiles  where  cats 
prowled  and  dingy  sparrows  hopped,  in  an  atmosphere  laden 
with  whiffs  from  a  neighboring  dairyman^s  stables,  Esther  lost 
herself  in  wild  tales  of  passion  and  romance.  She  frequently 
read  them  aloud  for  the  benefit  of  the  sallow-faced  needle- 
woman, who  had  found  romance  square  so  sadly  with  the  reali- 
ties of  her  own  existence.  And  so  all  a  summer  afternoon, 
Dutch  Debby  and  Esther  would  be  rapt  away  to  a  world  of 
brave  men  and  fair  women,  a  world  of  fine  linen  and  purple,  of 
champagne  and  wickedness  and  cigarettes,  a  world  where  nobody 
w^orked  or  washed  shirts  or  was  hungry  or  had  holes  in  boots,  a 
world  utterly  ignorant  of  Judaism  and  the  heinousness  of  eating 
meat  with  butter.  Not  that  Esther  for  her  part  correlated  her 
conception  of  this  world  with  facts.  She  never  realized  that  it 
was  an  actually  possible  world  —  never  indeed  asked  herself 
whether  it  existed  outside  print  or  not.  She  never  thought  of 
it  in  that  way  at  all,  any  more  than  it  ever  occurred  to  her  that 
people  once  spoke  the  Hebrew  she  learned  to  read  and  translate. 
"  Bobby '^  was  often  present  at  these  readings,  but  he  kept  his 
thoughts  to  himself,  sitting  on  his  hind  legs  with  his  delight- 
fully ugly  nose  tilted  up  inquiringly  at  Esther.  For  the  best  of 
all  this  new  friendship  was  that  Bobby  was  not  jealous.  He 
was  only  a  sorry  dun-colored  mongrel  to  outsiders,  but  Esther 
learned  to  see  him  almost  through  Dutch  Debby^s  eyes.  And 
she  could  run  up  the  stairs  freely,  knowing  that  if  she  trod  on 
his  tail  now,  he  would  take  it  as  a  mark  of  camaraderie. 

"  I  used  to  pay  a  penny  a  week  for  the  London  yoiirnal^'^  said 
Debby  early  in  their  acquaintanceship,  "  till  one  day  I  discovered 
I  had  a  dreadful  bad  memory." 

"And  what  was  the  good  of  that?"  said  Esther. 

"Why,  it  was  worth  shillings  and  shillings  to  me.  You  see 
I  used  to  save  up  all  the  back  numbers  of  the  London  Journal 
because  of  the  answers  to  correspondents,  telling  you  how  to 
do  your  hair  and  trim  your  nails  and  give  yourself  a  nice  com- 
plexion. I  used  to  bother  my  head  about  that  sort  of  thing  in 
those  days,  dear ;  and  one  day  I  happened  to  get  reading  a 
story  in  a  back  number  only  about  a  year  old  and  I  found  I  was 


DUTCH  DEB  BY.  115 

just  as  interested  as  if  I  had  never  read  it  before  and  I  hadnH 
the  slightest  remembrance  of  it.  After  that  I  left  oif  buying 
the  Journal  ■B.wdi.  took  to  reading  my  big  heap  of  back  numbers. 
I  get  through  them  once  every  two  years."  Debby  interrupted 
herself  with  a  fit  of  coughing,  for  lengthy  monologue  is  inad- 
visable for  persons  W'ho  bend  over  needle-work  in  dark  back 
rooms.  Recovering  herself,  she  added,  "And  then  I  start 
afresh.     You  couldn't  do  that,  could  you?  " 

"  No,"  admitted  Esther,  with  a  painful  feeling  of  inferiority. 
"  I  remember  all  IVe  ever  read." 

"  Ah,  you  will  grow  up  a  clever  woman!  "  said  Debby,  patting 
her  hair. 

"Oh,  do  you  think  so?"  said  Esther,  her  dark  eyes  lighting 
up  with  pleasure. 

"  Oh  yes,  you're  always  first  in  your  class,  ain't  you  ?  " 

"Is  that  what  you  judge  by,  Debby?"  said  Esther,  disap- 
pointed. "  The  other  girls  are  so  stupid  and  take  no  thought 
for  anything  but  their  hats  and  their  frocks.  They  would  rather 
play  gobs  or  shuttlecock  or  hopscotch  than  read  about  the 
'  Forty  Thieves.'  They  don't  mind  being  kept  a  whole  year  in 
one  class  but  I  —  oh,  I  feel  so  mad  at  getting  on  so  slow.  I 
could  easily  learn  the  standard  work  in  three  months.  I  want 
to  know  everything  —  so  that  I  can  grow  up  to  be  a  teacher  at 
our  school.'^ 

"And  does  your  teacher  know  everything?  " 

"  Oh  yes  !  She  knows  the  meaning  of  every  word  and  all 
about  foreign  countries." 

"And  would  you  like  to  be  a  teacher?" 

"  If  I  could  only  be  clever  enough !  "  sighed  Esther.  "  But 
then  you  see  the  teachers  at  our  school  are  real  ladies  and 
they  dress,  oh,  so  beautifully  !  With  fur  tippets  and  six-button 
gloves.  I  could  never  afford  it,  for  even  when  I  was  earning 
five  shillings  a  week  I  should  have  to  give  most  of  it  to  father 
and  the  children." 

"  But  if  you're  very  good  —  I  dare  say  some  of  the  great  ladies 
like  the  Rothschilds  will  buy  you  nice  clothes.  I  have  heard 
they  are  very  good  to  clever  children." 


116  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

"  No,  then  the  other  teachers  would  know  I  was  getting 
charity  !  And  they  would  mock  at  me.  I  heard  Miss  Hyams 
make  fun  of  a  teacher  because  she  wore  the  same  dress  as  last 
winter.  I  don't  think  I  should  hke  to  be  a  teacher  after  all, 
though  it  is  nice  to  be  able  to  stand  with  your  back  to  the  fire 
in  the  winter.  The  girls  would  know  —  "  Esther  stopped  and 
blushed. 

"  Would  know  what,  dear?" 

"Well,  they  would  know  father/'  said  Esther  in  low  tones. 
"  They  would  see  him  selling  things  in  the  Lane  and  they 
wouldn't  do  what  I  told  them." 

"  Nonsense,  Esther.  I  believe  most  of  the  teachers'  fathers 
are  just  as  bad  —  I  mean  as  poor.  Look  at  Miss  Hyams's  own 
father." 

"  Oh  Debby  !  I  do  hope  that's  true.  Besides  when  I  was  earn- 
ing five  shillings  a  week,  I  could  buy  father  a  new  coat,  couldn't 
I  ?  And  then  there  would  be  no  need  for  him  to  stand  in  the 
Lane  with  lemons  or  '  four-corner  fringes,'  would  there  ? " 

"  No,  dear.  You  shall  be  a  teacher,  I  prophesy,  and  who 
knows  ?     Some  day  you  may  be  Head  Mistress  !  " 

Esther  laughed  a  startled  little  laugh  of  delight,  with  a  sus- 
picion of  a  sob  in  it.  "What !  Me  !  Me  go  round  and  make 
all  the  teachers  do  their  work.  Oh,  wouldn't  I  catch  them  £05- 
siping  !     I  know  their  tricks  !  " 

"You  seem  to  look  after  your  teacher  well.  Do  you  ever  call 
her  over  the  coals  for  gossiping  ? "  inquired  Dutch  Debby, 
amused. 

"  No,  no,"  protested  Esther  quite  seriously.  "  I  like  to  hear 
them  gossiping.  When  my  teacher  and  Miss  Davis,  who's  in 
the  next  room,  and  a  few  other  teachers  get  together,  I  learn  — 
Oh  such  a  lot !  —  from  their  conversation." 

"  Then  they  do  teach  you  after  all,"  laughed  Debby. 

"  Yes,  but  it's  not  on  the  Time  Table,"  said  Esther,  shaking  her 
little  head  sapiently.  "  It's  mostly  about  young  men.  Did  you 
ever  have  a  young  man,  Debby  ?  " 

"  Don't  —  don't  ask  such  questions,  child  !  "  Debby  bent  over 
her  needle-work. 


DUTCH  DEB  BY.  117 

"  Why  not  ?  "  persisted  Esther.  "  If  I  only  had  a  young  man 
when  I  grew  up,  I  should  be  proud  of  him.  Yes,  youVe  trying 
to  turn  your  head  away.  Pm  sure  you  had.  Was  he  nice  like 
Lord  Eversmonde  or  Captain  Andrew  Sinclair  ?  Why  you're 
crying,  Debby! " 

"Don't  be  a  little  fool,  Esther!  A  tiny  fly  has  just  flown  into 
my  eye  —  poor  little  thing  !  He  hurts  me  and  does  himself  no 
good." 

"  Let  me  see,  Debby,"  said  Esther.  "  Perhaps  I  shall  be  in 
time  to  save  him." 

"No,  don't  trouble." 

"  Don't  be  so  cruel,  Debby.  You're  as  bad  as  Solomon,  who 
pulls  off  flies'  wings  to  see  if  they  can  fly  without  them." 

"He's  dead  now.  Go  on  with  'Lady  Ann's  Rival;'  we've 
been  wasting  the  whole  afternoon  talking.  Take  my  advice, 
Esther,  and  don't  stuff  your  head  with  ideas  about  young  men. 
You're  too  young.     Now,  dear,  Pm  ready.     Go  on." 

"Where  was  I?  Oh  yes.  '  Lord  Eversmonde  folded  the  fair 
young  form  to  his  manly  bosom  and  pressed  kiss  after  kiss 
upon  her  ripe  young  lips,  which  responded  passionately  to  his 
own.  At  last  she  recovered  herself  and  cried  reproachfully,  Oh 
Sigismund,  why  do  you  persist  in  coming  here,  when  the  Duke 
forbids  it  ? '  Oh,  do  you  know,  Debby,  father  said  the  other  day 
I  oughtn't  to  come  here  ?  " 

"  Oh  no,  you  must,"  cried  Debby  impulsively.  "  I  couldn't 
part  with  you  now." 

"Father  says  people  say  you  are  not  good,"  said  Esther 
candidly. 

Debby  breathed  painfully.     "Well !"  she  whispered. 

"  But  I  said  people  were  liars.     You  are  good  !  " 

"  Oh,  Esther,  Esther  ! "  sobbed  Debby,  kissing  the  earnest 
little  face  with  a  vehemence  that  surprised  the  child. 

"I  think  father  only  said  that,"  Esther  went  on,  "because  he 
fancies  I  neglect  Sarah  and  Isaac  when  he's  at  Shool  and  they 
quarrel  so  about  their  birthdays  when  they're  together.  But 
they  don't  slap  one  another  hard.  Pll  tell  you  what !  Suppose 
I  bring  Sarah  down  here  !  " 


118  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

"Well,  but  won't  she  cry  and  be  miserable  here,  if  you  read, 
and  with  no  Isaac  to  play  with?" 

"  Oh  no/'  said  Esther  confidently.  "  She'll  keep  Bobby 
company." 

Bobby  took  kindly  to  little  Sarah  also.  He  knew  no  other 
dogs  and  in  such  circumstances  a  sensible  animal  falls  back  on 
human  beings.  He  had  first  met  Debby  herself  quite  casually 
and  the  two  lonely  beings  took  to  each  other.  Before  that 
meeting  Dutch  Debby  was  subject  to  wild  temptations.  Once 
she  half  starved  herself  and  put  aside  ninepence  a  week  for 
almost  three  months  and  purchased  one-eighth  of  a  lottery 
ticket  from  Sugarman  the  SJiadchan,  who  recognized  her  exist- 
ence for  the  occasion.     The  fortune  did  not  come  off. 

Debby  saw  less  and  less  of  Esther  as  the  months  crept  on 
again  towards  winter,  for  the  little  girl  feared  her  hostess  might 
feel  constrained  to  offer  her  food,  and  the  children  required 
more  soothing.  Esther  would  say  very  little  about  her  home 
life,  though  Debby  got  to  know  a  great  deal  about  her  school- 
mates and  her  teacher. 

One  summer  evening  after  Esther  had  passed  into  the  hands 
of  Miss  Miriam  Hyams  she  came  to  Dutch  Debby  with  a  grave 
face  and  said :  "  Oh,  Debby,  Miss  Hyams  is  not  a  heroine." 

"  No  ?  "  said  Debby,  amused.  "  You  were  so  charmed  with 
her  at  first." 

"  Yes,  she  is  very  pretty  and  her  hats  are  lovely.  But  she  is 
not  a  heroine." 

"Why,  what's  happened?" 

"  You  know  what  lovely  weather  it's  been  all  day  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Well,  this  morning  all  in  the  middle  of  the  Scripture  les- 
son, she  said  to  us,  '  What  a  pity,  girls,  we've  got  to  stay  cooped 
up  here  this  bright  weather'  —  you  know  she  chats  to  us  so 
nicely  — '  in  some  schools  they  have  half-holidays  on  Wednes- 
day afternoons  in  the  summer.  Wouldn't  it  be  nice  if  we 
could  have  them  and  be  out  in  the  sunshine  in  Victoria 
Park?'  'Hoo,  yes,  teacher,  wouldn't  that  be  jolly?'  we  all 
cried.      Then   teacher    said :    '  Well,    why   not    ask   the    Head 


DUTCH  DEB  BY.  119 

Mistress  for  a  holiday  tliis  afternoon?  YouVe  the  highest 
standard  in  the  school  —  I  dare  say  if  you  ask  for  it,  the  whole 
school  will  get  a  holiday.  Who  will  be  spokes-woman?'  Then 
all  the  girls  said  I  must  be  because  I  was  the  first  girl  in  the 
class  and  sounded  all  my  h's,  and  when  the  Head  Mistress 
came  into  the  room  I  up  and  curtseyed  and  asked  her  if  we 
could  have  a  holiday  this  afternoon  on  account  of  the  beautiful 
sunshine.  Then  the  Head  Mistress  put  on  her  eye-glasses  and 
her  face  grew  black  and  the  sunshine  seemed  to  go  out  of  the 
room.  And  she  said  '  What  !  After  all  the  holidays  we  have 
here,  a  month  at  New  Year  and  a  fortnight  at  Passover,  and  all 
the  fast-days !  I  am  surprised  that  you  girls  should  be  so  lazy 
and  idle  and  ask  for  more.  Why  don't  you  take  example  by 
your  teacher?  Look  at  Miss  Hyams.''  We  all  looked  at  Miss 
Hyams,  but  she  was  looking  for  some  papers  in  her  desk. 
'Look  how  Miss  Hyams  works!'  said  the  Head  Mistress. 
'  She  never  grumbles,  she  never  asks  for  a  holiday ! '  We  all 
looked  again  at  Miss  Hyams,  but  she  hadn't  yet  found  the 
papers.  There  was  an  awful  silence ;  you  could  have  heard 
a  pin  drop.  There  wasn't  a  single  cough  or  rustle  of  a  dress. 
Then  the  Head  Mistress  turned  to  me  and  she  said :  '■  And  you, 
Esther  Ansell,  whom  I  always  thought  so  highly  of,  I'm  surprised 
at  your  being  the  ringleader  in  such  a  disgraceful  request.  You 
ought  to  know  better.  I  shall  bear  it  in  mind,  Esther  Ansell.' 
With  that  she  sailed  out,  stiff  and  straight  as  a  poker,  and 
the  door  closed  behind  her  with  a  bang." 

"Well,  and  what  did  Miss  Hyams  say  then?"  asked  Debby, 
deeply  interested. 

"  She  said :  '  Selina  Green,  and  what  did  Moses  do  when  the 
Children  of  Israel  gRimbled  for  water?'  She  just  went  on  with 
the  Scripture  lesson,  as  if  nothing  had  happened." 

"  I  should  tell  the  Head  Mistress  who  sent  me  on,"  cried 
Debby  indignantly. 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Esther  shaking  her  head.  "  That  would  be 
mean.  It's  a  matter  for  her  own  conscience.  Oh,  but  I  do 
wish,"  she  concluded,  "  we  had  had  a  holiday.  It  would  have 
been  so  lovely  out  in  the  Park." 


120  CHILDREN   OF   THE    GHETTO. 

Victoria  Park  was  the  Park  to  the  Ghetto.  A  couple  of  miles 
off,  far  enough  to  make  a  visit  to  it  an  excursion,  it  was  a  per- 
petual blessing  to  the  Ghetto.  On  rare  Sunday  afternoons  the 
Ansell  family  minus  the  Bube  toiled  there  and  back  en  ?nasse, 
Moses  carrying  Isaac  and  Sarah  by  turns  upon  his  shoulder. 
Esther  loved  the  Park  in  all  weathers,  but  best  of  all  in  the 
summer,  when  the  great  lake  was  bright  and  busy  with  boats, 
and  the  birds  twittered  in  the  leafy  trees  and  the  lobelias  and 
calceolarias  were  woven  into  wonderful  patterns  by  the  garden- 
ers. Then  she  would  throw  herself  down  on  the  thick  grass  and 
look  up  in  mystic  rapture  at  the  brooding  blue  sky  and  forget  to 
read  the  book  she  had  brought  with  her,  while  the  other  chil- 
dren chased  one  another  about  in  savage  delight.  Only  once 
on  a  Saturday  afternoon  when  her  father  w^as  not  with  them,  did 
she  get  Dutch  Debby  to  break  through  her  retired  habits  and 
accompany  them,  and  then  it  was  not  summer  but  late  autumn. 
There  was  an  indefinable  melancholy  about  the  sere  landscape. 
Russet  refuse  strewed  the  paths  and  the  gaunt  trees  waved  flesh- 
less  arms  in  the  breeze.  The  November  haze  rose  from  the 
moist  ground  and  dulled  the  blue  of  heaven  with  smoky  clouds 
amid  which  the  sun,  a  red  sailless  boat,  floated  at  anchor  among 
golden  and  crimson  furrows  and  glimmering  far-dotted  fleeces. 
The  small  lake  was  slimy,  reflecting  the  trees  on  its  borders  as  a 
network  of  dirty  branches.  A  solitary  swan  ruffled  its  plumes 
and  elongated  its  throat,  doubled  in  quivering  outlines  beneath 
the  muddy  surface.  All  at  once  the  splash  of  oars  was  heard  and 
the  sluggish  waters  were  stirred  by  the  passage  of  a  boat  in 
which  a  heroic  young  man  was  rowing  a  no  less  heroic  young, 
woman. 

Dutch  Debby  burst  into  tears  and  went  home.  After  that  she 
fell  back  entirely  on  Bobby  and  Esther  and  the  London  Journal 
and  never  even  saved  up  nine  shillings  again. 


A  SILENT  FAMILY.  121 

CHAPTER   X. 

A   SILENT   FAMILY. 

SuGARMAN  the  Shadchan  arrived  one  evening  a  few  days 
before  Purim  at  the  tiny  two-storied  house  in  which  Esther's 
teacher  lived,  with  Httle  Nehemiah  tucked  under  his  arm. 
Nehemiah  wore  shoes  and  short  red  socks.  The  rest  of  his 
legs  was  bare.  Sugarman  always  carried  him  so  as  to  demon- 
strate this  fact.  Sugarman  himself  was  rigged  out  in  a  hand- 
some manner,  and  the  day  not  being  holy,  his  blue  bandanna 
peeped  out  from  his  left  coat-tail,  instead  of  being  tied  round  his 
trouser  band. 

"Good  morning,  marm,''  he  said  cheerfully. 

"Good  morning,  Sugarman,"  said  Mrs.  Hyams. 

She  was  a  little  careworn  old  woman  of  si.xty  with  white  hair. 
Had  she  been  more  pious  her  hair  would  never  have  turned 
gray.  But  Miriam  had  long  since  put  her  veto  on  her  mother's 
black  wig.  Mrs.  Hyams  was  a  meek,  weak  person  and  submitted 
in  silence  to  the  outrage  on  her  deepest  instincts.  Old  Hyams 
was  stronger,  but  not  strong  enough.  He,  too,  was  a  silent 
person. 

"  P'raps  you're  surprised,"  said  Sugarman,  "  to  get  a  call  from 
me  in  my  sealskin  vest-coat.  But  de  fact  is,  marm,  I  put  it  on 
to  call  on  a  lady.     I  only  dropped  in  here  on  my  vay." 

"Won't  you  take  a  chair?"  said  Mrs.  Hyams.  She  spoke 
English  painfully  and  slowly,  having  been  schooled  by  Miriam. 

"  No,  I'm  not  tired.  But  I  vill  put  Nechemyah  down  on  one, 
if  you  permit.  Dere!  Sit  still  or  I  potch  you!  P'raps  you  could 
lend  me  your  corkscrew." 

"  With  pleasure,"  said  Mrs.  Hyams. 

"  I  dank  you.  You  see  my  boy,  Ebenezer,  is  Barmitzvah 
next  Shabbos  a  veek,  and  I  may  not  be  passing  again.  You  vill 
come?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Mrs.  Hyams  hesitatingly.     She  was  not 


122  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

certain  whether  Miriam  considered  Sugarman  on  their  visiting 
list. 

"  Don't  say  dat.  I  expect  to  open  dirteen  bottles  of  lemonade! 
You  must  come,  you  and  Mr.  Hyams  and  the  whole  family.'" 

"Thank  you,  I  will  tell  Miriam  and  Daniel  and  my  hus- 
band." 

"  Dat's  right.  Nechemyah,  don't  dance  on  de  good  lady's 
chair.     Did  you  hear,  Mrs.  Hyams,  of  Mrs.  Jonas's  luck?" 

"  No." 

"  I  won  her  eleven  pounds  on  the  lotter*?^." 

"How  nice,"  said  Mrs.  Hyams,  a  little  fluttered. 

"I  would  let  you  have  half  a  ticket  for  two  pounds." 

"I  haven't  the  money." 

"  Veil,  dirty-six  shillings!     Dere!     I  have  to  pay  dat  myself." 

"  I  would  if  I  could,  but  I  can't." 

"  But  you  can  have  an  eighth  for  nine  shillings." 

Mrs.  Hyams  shook  her  head  hopelessly. 

"  How  is  your  son  Daniel?"  Sugarman  asked. 

"Pretty  well,  thank  you.     How  is  your  wife?" 

"  Tank  Gawd  !  " 

"And  your  Bessie?" 

"Tank  Gawd!     Is  your  Daniel  in?" 

"  Yes." 

"Tank  Gawd!     I  mean,  can  I  see  him?" 

"It  won't  do  any  good." 

"  No,  not  dat,"  said  Sugarman.  "  I  should  like  to  ask  him  to 
de  Confirmation  myself." 

"Daniel!  "  called  Mrs.  Hyams. 

He  came  from  the  back  yard  in  rolled-up  shirt-sleeves,  soap- 
suds drying  on  his  arms.  He  was  a  pleasant-faced,  flaxen-haired 
young  fellow,  the  junior  of  Miriam  by  eighteen  months.  There 
was  will  in  the  lower  part  of  the  face  and  tenderness  in  the  eyes. 

"  Good  morning,  sir,"  said  Sugarman.  "  My  Ebenezer  is  Bar- 
viitzvah  next  Shabbos  week ;  vill  you  do  me  the  honor  to  drop 
in  wid  your  moder  and  fader  after  Shoolf'' 

Daniel  crimsoned  suddenly.  He  had  "No"  on  his  lips,  but 
suppressed  it  and  ultimately  articulated  it  in  some  polite  periph- 


A   SILENT  FAMILY.  123 

rasis.  His  mother  noticed  the  crimson.  On  a  blonde  face  it 
tells. 

"  Don't  say  dat,"  said  Sugarman.  "  I  expect  to  open  dirteen 
bottles  of  lemonade.     I  have  lent  your  good  moderns  corkscrew." 

"  I  shall  be  pleased  to  send  Ebenezer  a  little  present,  but  I 
can't  come,  I  really  can't.  You  must  excuse  me.''  Daniel  turned 
away. 

"  Veil,"  said  Sugarman,  anxious  to  assure  him  he  bore  no 
malice.  "  If  you  send  a  present  I  reckon  it  de  same  as  if  you 
come." 

"That's  all  right,"  said  Daniel  with  strained  heartiness. 

Sugarman  tucked  Nehemiah  under  his  arm  but  lingered  on 
the  threshold.  He  did  not  know  how  to  broach  the  subject. 
But  the  inspiration  came. 

"  Do  you  know  I  have  summonsed  Morris  Kerlinski  ? " 

"  No,"  said  Daniel.     "  What  for  ? " 

"He  owes  me  dirty  shillings.  I  found  him  a  very  fine  maiden, 
but,  now  he  is  married,  he  says  it  was  only  worth  a  suvran.  He 
offered  it  me  but  I  vouldn't  take  it.  A  poor  man  he  vas,  too, 
and  got  ten  pun  from  a  marriage  portion  society." 

"  Is  it  worth  while  bringing  a  scandal  on  the  community  for 
the  sake  of  ten  shillings?  It  will  be  in  all  the  papers,  and  SJiad- 
chan  will  be  spelt  shatcan,  shodkin,  shatkin,  chodcan,  shotgun, 
and  goodness  knows  what  else." 

"Yes,  but  it  isn't  ten  shillings,"  said  Sugarman.  "It's  dirty 
shillings.'' 

"  But  you  say  he  offered  you  a  sovereign." 

"  So  he  did.  He  arranged  for  two  pun  ten.  I  took  the 
suvran  —  but  not  in  full  payment." 

"  You  ought  to  settle  it  before  the  Beth-din,"  said  Daniel  ve- 
hemently, "or  get  some  Jew  to  arbitrate.  You  make  the  Jews  a 
laughing-stock.  It  is  true  all  marriages  depend  on  money,"  he 
added  bitterly,  "  only  it  is  the  fashion  of  police  court  reporters  to 
pretend  the  custom  is  limited  to  the  Jews." 

"  Veil,  I  did  go  to  Reb  Shemuel,"  said  Sugarman  "  I  dought 
he'd  be  the  very  man  to  arbitrate." 

"Why?  "asked  Daniel. 


124  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

"Vy?  Hasn't  \\^  h^itvv  z.  Shadchati  himself?  From  who  else 
shall  we  look  for  sympaty  ?  " 

"  I  see,"  said  Daniel  smiling  a  little.  "  And  apparently  you 
got  none." 

"No,"  said  Sugarman,  growing  wToth  at  the  recollection. 
"  He  said  ve  are  not  in  Poland." 

"  Quite  true." 

"Yes,  but  I  gave  him  an  answer  he  didn't  like,"  said  Sugar- 
man.  "  I  said,  and  ven  ve  are  not  in  Poland  mustn't  ve  keep 
none  of  our  religion  ? " 

His  tone  changed  from  indignation  to  insinuation. 

"  Vy  vill  you  not  let  me  get  you  a  vife,  Mr.  Hyams?  I  have 
several  extra  fine  maidens  in  my  eye.  Come  now,  don't  look  so 
angry.  How  much  commission  vill  you  give  me  if  I  find  you  a 
maiden  vid  a  hundred  pound?  " 

"The  maiden!"  thundered  Daniel.  Then  it  dawned  upon 
him  that  he  had  said  a  humorous  thing  and  he  laughed.  There 
was  merriment  as  well  as  mysticism  in  Daniel's  blue  eyes. 

But  Sugarman  went  away,  down-hearted.  Love  is  blind,  and 
even  marriage-brokers  may  be  myopic.  Most  people  not  con- 
cerned knew  that  Daniel  Hyams  was  "sweet  on '^  Sugarman's 
Bessie.  And  it  was  so.  Daniel  loved  Bessie,  and  Bessie  loved 
Daniel.  Only  Bessie  did  not  speak  because  she  was  a  woman 
and  Daniel  did  not  speak  because  he  was  a  man.  They  were  a 
quiet  family  —  the  Hyamses.  They  all  bore  their  crosses  in 
a  silence  unbroken  even  at  home.  Miriam  herself,  the  least  reti- 
cent, did  not  give  the  impression  that  she  could  not  have  hus- 
bands for  the  winking.  Her  demands  were  so  high  —  that  was 
all.  Daniel  was  proud  of  her  and  her  position  and  her  clever- 
ness and  was  confident  she  w^ould  marry  as  well  as  she  dressed. 
He  did  not  expect  her  to  contribute  towards  the  expenses  of  the 
household  —  though  she  did  —  for  he  felt  he  had  broad  shoul- 
ders. He  bore  his  father  and  mother  on  those  shoulders,  semi- 
invalids  both.  In  the  bold  bad  years  of  shameless  poverty, 
Hyams  had  been  a  wandering  metropolitan  glazier,  but  this  open 
degradation  became  intolerable  as  Miriam's  prospects  improved. 
It  was  partly  for  her  sake  that  Daniel  ultimately  supported  his 


A   SILENT  FAMILY.  125 

parents  in  idleness  and  refrained  from  speaking  to  Bessie.  For 
he  was  only  an  employe  in  a  fancy-goods  warehouse,  and  on  forty- 
five  shillings  a  week  you  cannot  keep  up  two  respectable  estab- 
lishments. 

Bessie  was  a  bonnie  girl  and  could  not  in  the  nature  of  things 
be  long  uncaught.  There  was  a  certain  night  on  which  Daniel 
did  not  sleep  —  hardly  a  white  night  as  our  French  neighbors 
say  ;  a  tear-stained  night  rather.  In  the  morning  he  was  resolved 
to  deny  himself  Bessie.  Peace  would  be  his'  instead.  If  it  did 
not  come  immediately  he  knew  it  was  on  the  way.  For  once  be- 
fore he  had  struggled  and  been  so  rewarded.  That  was  in  his 
eighteenth  year  when  he  awoke  to  the  glories  of  free  thought,  and 
knew  himself  a  victim  to  the  Moloch  of  the  Sabbath,  to  which 
fathers  sacrifice  their  children.  The  proprietor  of  the  fancy 
goods  was  a  Jew,  and  moreover  closed  on  Saturdays.  But  for 
this  anachronism  of  keeping  Saturday  holy  when  you  had  Sun- 
day also  to  laze  on,  Daniel  felt  a  hundred  higher  careers  would 
have  been  open  to  him.  Later,  when  free  thought  waned  (it  was 
after  Daniel  had  met  Bessie),  although  he  never  returned  to  his 
father's  narrowness,  he  found  the  abhorred  Sabbath  sanctifying 
his  life.  It  made  life  a  conscious  voluntary  sacrifice  to  an  ideal, 
and  the  reward  was  a  touch  of  consecration  once  a  week.  Dan- 
iel could  not  have  described  these  things,  nor  did  he  speak  of 
them,  which  was  a  pity.  Once  and  once  only  in  the  ferment  of 
free  thought  he  had  uncorked  his  soul,  and  it  had  run  over  with 
much  froth,  and  thenceforward  old  Mendel  Hyams  and  Beenah, 
his  wife,  opposed  more  furrowed  foreheads  to  a  world  too  strong 
for  them.  If  Daniel  had  taken  back  his  words  and  told  them 
he  was  happier  for  the  ruin  they  had  made  of  his  prospects, 
their  gait  might  not  have  been  so  listless.  But  he  was  a  silent 
man. 

"You  will  go  to  Sugarman's,  mother,"  he  said  now.  "You 
and  father.  Don't  mind  that  I'm  not  going.  I  have  another 
appointment  for  the  afternoon." 

It  was  a  superfluous  lie  for  so  silent  a  man. 

"  He  doesn't  like  to  be  seen  with  us,"  Beenah  Hyams  thought. 
But  she  was  silent. 


126  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

"  He  has  never  forgiven  my  putting  him  to  the  fancy  goods," 
thought  Mendel  Hyams  when  told.     But  he  was  silent. 

It  was  of  no  good  discussing  it  with  his  wife.  Those  two  had 
rather  halved  their  joys  than  their  sorrows.  They  had  been 
married  forty  years  and  had  never  had  an  intimate  moment. 
Their  marriage  had  been  a  matter  of  contract.  Forty  years 
ago,  in  Poland,  Mendel  Hyams  had  awoke  one  morning  to  find 
a  face  he  had  never  seen  before  on  the  pillow  beside  his.  Not 
even  on  the  wedding-day  had  he  been  allowed  a  glimpse  of  his 
bride's  countenance.  That  was  the  custom  of  the  country  and 
the  time.  Beenah  bore  her  husband  four  children,  of  whom 
the  elder  two  died ;  but  the  marriage  did  not  beget  affection, 
often  the  inverse  offspring  of  such  unions.  Beenah  was  a  duti- 
ful housewife  and  Mendel  Hyams  supported  her  faithfully  so 
Ions:  as  his  children  would  let  him.  Love  never  flew  out  of  the 
window  for  he  was  never  in  the  house.  They  did  not  talk  to 
each  other  much.  Beenah  did  the  housework  unaided  by  the 
sprig  of  a  servant  who  was  engaged  to  satisfy  the  neighbors. 
In  his  enforced  idleness  Mendel  fell  back  on  his  religion,  almost 
a  profession  in  itself     They  were  a  silent  couple. 

At  sixty  there  is  not  much  chance  of  a  forty  year  old  silence 
being  broken  on  this  side  of  the  grave.  So  far  as  his  personal 
happiness  was  concerned,  Mendel  had  only  one  hope  left  in  the 
world  —  to, die  in  Jerusalem.  His  feeling  for  Jerusalem  was 
unique.  All  the  hunted  Jew  in  him  combined  with  all  the  bat- 
tered man  to  transfigure  Zion  with  the  splendor  of  sacred  dreams 
and  girdle  it  with  the  rainbows  that  are  builded  of  bitter  tears. 
And  with  it  all  a  dread  that  if  he  were  buried  elsewhere,  when 
the  last  trump  sounded  he  would  have  to  roll  under  the  earth 
and  under  the  sea  to  Jerusalem,  the  rendezvous  of  resurrection. 

Every  year  at  the  Passover  table  he  gave  his  hope  voice : 
"Next  year  in  Jerusalem.'''  In  her  deepest  soul  Miriam  echoed 
this  wish  of  his.  She  felt  she  could  like  him  better  at  a  distance. 
Beenah  Hyams  had  only  one  hope  left  in  the  world  —  to  die. 


THE  PURIM  BALL.  127 


CHAPTER   XI, 


THE   PURIM   BALL. 


Sam  Levine  duly  returned  for  the  Purim  ball.  Malka  was 
away  and  so  it  was  safe  to  arrive  on  the  Sabbath.  Sam  and 
Leah  called  for  Hannah  in  a  cab,  for  the  pavements  were  un- 
favorable to  dancing  shoes,  and  the  three  drove  to  the  "  Club/' 
which  was  not  a  sixth  of  a  mile  off. 

"The  Club"  was  the  People's  Palace  of  the  Ghetto;  but  that 
it  did  not  reach  the  bed-rock  of  the  inhabitants  was  sufficiently 
evident  from  the  fact  that  its  language  was  English.  ^  The  very 
lowest  stratum  was  of  secondary  formation  —  the  children  of 
immigrants  —  while  the  highest  touched  the  lower  middle-class, 
on  the  mere  fringes  of  the  Ghetto.  It  was  a  happy  place  where 
young  men  and  maidens  met  on  equal  terms  and  similar  sub- 
scriptions, where  billiards  and  flirtations  and  concerts  and  laugh- 
ter and  gay  gossip  were  always  on,  and  lemonade  and  cakes 
never  off;  a  heaven  where  marriages  were  made,  books  borrowed 
and  newspapers  read.  Muscular  Judaism  was  well  to  the  fore  at 
"the  Club,"  and  entertainments  were  frequent.  The  middle 
classes  of  the  community,  overflowing  with  artistic  instinct,  sup- 
plied a  phenomenal  number  of  reciters,  vocalists  and  instrumen- 
talists ready  to  oblige,  and  the  greatest  favorites  of  the  London 
footlights  were  pleased  to  come  down,  partly  because  they  found 
such  keenly  appreciative  audiences,  and  partly  because  they  were 
so  much  mixed  up  with  the  race,  both  professionally  and  socially. 
There  were  serious  lectures  now  and  again,  but  few  of  the  mem- 
bers took  them  seriously ;  they  came  to  the  Club  not  to  improve 
their  minds  but  to  relax  them.  The  Club  was  a  blessing  with- 
out disguise  to  the  daughters  of  Judah,  and  certainly  kept  their 
brothers  from  harm.  The  ball-room,  with  its  decorations  of 
evergreens  and  winter  blossoms,  was  a  gay  sight.  Most  of  the 
dancers  were  in  evening  dress,  and  it  would  have  been  impos- 
sible to  tell  the  ball  from  a  Belgravian  gathering,  except  by  the 


128  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

preponderance  of  youth  and  beauty.  Where  could  you  match 
such  a  bevy  of  brunettes,  where  find  such  blondes  ?  They  were 
anything  but  lymphatic,  these  oriental  blondes,  if  their  eyes  did 
not  sparkle  so  intoxicatingly  as  those  of  the  darker  majority. 
The  young  men  had  carefully  curled  moustaches  and  ringlets 
oiled  like  the  Assyrian  bull,  and  figure-six  noses,  and  studs  glit- 
tering on  their  creamy  shirt-fronts.  How  they  did  it  on  their 
wages  was  one  of  the  many  miracles  of  Jewish  history.  For 
socially  and  even  in  most  cases  financially  they  were  only  on  the 
level  of  the  Christian  artisan.  These  young  men  in  dress-coats 
were  epitomes  of  one  aspect  of  Jewish  history.  Not  in  every 
respect  improvements  on  the  "  Sons  of  the  Covenant,"  though  ; 
replacing  the  primitive  manners  and  the  piety  of  the  foreign  Jew 
by  a  veneer  of  cheap  culture  and  a  laxity  of  ceremonial  observ- 
ance. It  was  a  merry  party,  almost  like  a  family  gathering, 
not  merely  because  most  of  the  dancers  knew  one  another,  but 
because  "all  Israel  are  brothers''  —  and  sisters.  They  danced 
very  buo3'antly,  not  boisterously ;  the  square  dances  symmet- 
rically executed,  every  performer  knowing  his  part ;  the  waltzing 
full  of  rhythmic  grace.  When  the  music  was  popular  they  ac- 
companied it  on  their  voices.  After  supper  their  heels  grew 
lighter,  and  the  laughter  and  gossip  louder,  but  never  beyond 
the  bounds  of  decorimi.  A  few  Dutch  dancers  tried  to  intro- 
duce the  more  gymnastic  methods  in  vogue  in  their  own  clubs. 


where  the  kangaroo  is  dancing  master,  but  the  sentiment  of  the 
floor  was  against  them.  Hannah  danced  little,  a  voluntary  wall- 
flower, for  she  looked  radiant  in  tussore  silk,  and  there  was  an 
air  of  refinement  about  the  slight,  pretty  girl  that  attracted  the 
beaux  of  the  Club.  But  she  only  gave  a  duty  dance  to  Sam,  and 
a  waltz  to  Daniel  Hyams,  who  had  been  brought  by  his  sister, 
though  he  did  not  boast  a  swallow-tail  to  match  her  flowing 
draperies.  Hannah  caught  a  rather  unamiable  glance  from  pretty 
Bessie  Sugarman,  whom  poor  Daniel  was  trying  hard  not  to  see 
in  the  crush. 

"Is  your  sister  engaged  yet?"  Hannah  asked,  for  want  of 
something  to  say. 

"You  would  know  it   if  she  was,"  said  Daniel,  looking  so 


THE  PURIM  BALL.  129 

troubled  that  Hannah  reproached  herself  for  the  meaningless 
remark. 

"  How  well  she  dances ! "  she  made  haste  to  say. 

"  Not  better  than  you,"  said  Daniel,  gallantly. 

"  I  see  compliments  are  among  the  fancy  goods  you  deal  in. 
Do  you  reverse .'' "  she  added,  as  they  came  to  an  awkward 
corner. 

"Yes — but  not  my  compliments,"  he  said  smiling.  "Miriam 
taught  me." 

"  She  makes  me  think  of  Miriam  dancing  by  the  Red  Sea," 
she  said,  laughing  at  the  incongmous  idea. 

"She  played  a  timbrel,  though,  didn't  she?"  he  asked.  "I 
confess  I  don't  quite  know  what  a  timbrel  is." 

"A  sort  of  tambourine,  I  suppose,"  said  Hannah  merrily,  "and 
she  sang  because  the  children  of  Israel  were  saved." 

They  both  laughed  heartily,  but  when  the  waltz  was  over  they 
returned  to  their  individual  gloom.  Towards  supper-time,  in  the 
middle  of  a  square  dance,  Sam  suddenly  noticing  Hannah's  soli- 
tude, brought  her  a  tall  bronzed  gentlemanly  young  man  in  a 
frock  coat,  mumbled  an  introduction  and  rushed  back  to  the 
arms  of  the  exacting  Leah. 

"Excuse  me,  I  am  not  dancing  to-night,"  Hannah  said  coldly 
in  reply  to  the  stranger's  demand  for  her  programme. 

"  Well,  I'm  not  half  sorry,"  he  said,  with  a  frank  smile.  "  I 
had  to  ask  you,  you  know.  But  I  should  feel  quite  out  of  place 
bumping  such  a  lot  of  swells." 

There  w'as  something  unusual  about  the  words  and  the  man- 
ner which  impressed  Hannah  agreeably,  in  spite  of  herself.  Her 
face  relaxed  a  little  as  she  said  : 

"Why,  haven't  you  been  to  one  of  these  affairs  before?" 

"  Oh  yes,  six  or  seven  years  ago,  but  the  place  seems  quite 
altered.  They've  rebuilt  it,  haven't  they?  Very  few  of  us 
sported  dress-coats  here  in  the  days  before  I  went  to  the  Cape. 
I  only  came  back  the  other  day  and  somebody  gave  me  a  ticket 
and  so  I've  looked  in  for  auld  lang  syne." 

An  unsympathetic  hearer  would  have  detected  a  note  of  con- 
descension in  the  last  sentence.     Hannah  detected  it,  for  the 

K 


130  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

announcement  that  the  young  man  had  returned  from  the  Cape 
froze  all  her  nascent  sympathy.  She  was  turned  to  ice  again. 
Hannah  knew  him  well  —  the  young  man  from  the  Cape.  He 
was  a  higher  and  more  disagreeable  development  of  the  young 
man  in  the  dress-coat.  He  had  put  South  African  money  in  his 
purse  —  whether  honestly  or  not,  no  one  inquired  —  the  fact  re- 
mained he  had  put  it  in  his  purse.  Sometimes  the  law  confis- 
cated it,  pretending  he  had  purchased  diamonds  illegally,  or 
what  not,  but  then  the  young  man  did  not  return  from  the  Cape. 
But,  to  do  him  justice,  the  secret  of  his  success  was  less  dis- 
honesty than  the  opportunities  for  initiative  energy  in  unex- 
ploited  districts.  Besides,  not  having  to  keep  up  appearances, 
he  descended  to  menial  occupations  and  toiled  so  long  and  terri- 
bly that  he  would  probably  have  made  just  as  much  money  at 
home,  if  he  had  had  the  courage.  Be  this  as  it  may,  there  the 
money  was  ;  and,  armed  with  it,  the  young  man  set  sail  literally 
for  England,  home  and  beauty ;  resuming  his  cast-off  gentility 
with  several  extra  layers  of  superciliousness.  Pretty  Jewesses, 
pranked  in  their  prettiest  clothes,  hastened,  metaphorically 
speaking,  to  the  port  to  welcome  the  wanderer ;  for  they  knew 
it  was  from  among  them  he  would  make  his  pick.  There  were 
several  varieties  of  him  —  marked  by  financial  ciphers — but 
whether  he  married  in  his  old  station  or  higher  up  the  scale,  he 
was  always  faithful  to  the  sectarian  tradition  of  the  race,  and  this 
less  from  religious  motives  than  from  hereditary  instinct.  Like 
the  young  man  in  the  dress-coat,  he  held  the  Christian  girl  to  be 
cold  of  heart,  and  unsprightly  of  temperament.  He  laid  it  down 
that  all  Yiddishe  girls  possessed  that  warmth  and  chic  which, 
among  Christians,  were  the  birthright  of  a  few  actresses  and 
music-hall  artistes  —  themselves,  probably,  Jewesses  !  And  on 
things  theatrical  this  young  man  spoke  as  one  having  authority. 
Perhaps,  though  he  was  scarce  conscious  of  it,  at  the  bottom  of 
his  repulsion  was  the  certainty  that  the  Christian  girl  could  not 
fry  fish.  She  might  be  delightful  for  flirtation  of  all  degrees, 
but  had  not  been  formed  to  make  him  permanently  happy.  Such 
was  the  conception  which  Hannah  had  formed  for  herself  of 
the  young  man  from  the  Cape.     This  latest  specimen  of  the 


THE  PURIM  BALL.  131 

genus  was  prepossessing  into  the  bargain.  There  was  no  deny- 
ing he  was  well  built,  with  a  shapely  head  and  a  lovely  mous- 
tache. Good  looks  alone  were  vouchers  for  insolence  and 
conceit,  but,  backed  by  the  aforesaid  purse  — !  She  turned 
her  head  away  and  stared  at  the  evolutions  of  the  "  Lancers  " 
with  much  interest. 

"  TheyVe  got  some  pretty  girls  in  that  set,"  he  observed 
admiringly.  Evidently  the  young  man  did  not  intend  to  go 
away. 

Hannah  felt  very  annoyed.  "  Yes,"  she  said,  sharply,  "which 
would  you  like  ?  " 

"  I  shouldn't  care  to  make  invidious  distinctions,"  he  replied 
with  a  little  laugh. 

"Odious  prig!"  thought  Hannah.  ''He  actually  doesn''t  see 
Fm  sitting  on  him!"  Aloud  she  said,  "No?  But  you  can't 
marry  them  all." 

"Why  should  I  marry  any?"  he  asked  in  the  same  light 
tone,  though  there  was  a  shade  of  surprise  in  it. 

"Haven't  you  come  back  to  England  to  get  a  wife?  Most 
young  men  do,  when  they  don't  have  one  exported  to  them 
in  Africa." 

He  laughed  with  genuine  enjoyment  and  strove  to  catch  the 
answering  gleam  in  her  eyes,  but  she  kept  them  averted.  They 
were  standing  with  their  backs  to  the  wall  and  he  could  only  see 
the  profile  and  note  the  graceful  poise  of  the  head  upon  the 
warm-colored  neck  that  stood  out  against  the  white  bodice. 
The  frank  ring  of  his  laughter  mixed  with  the  merry  jingle  of  the 
fifth  figure  — 

"Well,  I'm  afraid  I'm  going  to  be  an  exception,"  he  said. 

"You  think  nobody  good  enough,  perhaps,"  she  could  not 
help  saying. 

"  Oh!     Why  should  you  think  that ?  " 

"  Perhaps  you're  married  already." 

"Oh  no,  I'm  not,"  he  said  earnestly.  "You're  not,  either, 
are  you?  " 

"Me?  "  she  asked  ;  then,  with  a  barely  perceptible  pause,  she 
said,  "  Of  course  1  am." 


132  CHILDREN   OF   THE    GHETTO. 

The  thought  of  posing  as  the  married  woman  she  theoretically 
was,  flashed  upon  her  suddenly  and  appealed  irresistibly  to 
her  sense  of  fun.  The  recollection  that  the  nature  of  the 
ring  on  her  finger  was  concealed  by  her  glove  afforded  her 
supplementary  amusement. 

"Oh!"  was  all  he  said.  "I  didn't  catch  your  name 
exactly.'" 

"  I  didn''t  catch  yours,""  she  replied  evasively. 

"David  Brandon,"'  he  said  readily. 

"It^s  a  pretty  name,"  she  said,  turning  smilingly  to  him. 
The  infinite  possibilities  of  making  fun  of  him  latent  in  the 
joke  quite  warmed  her  towards  him.  "  How  unfortunate  for  me 
I  have  destroyed  my  chance  of  getting  it." 

It  was  the  first  time  she  had  smiled,  and  he  liked  the  play  of 
light  round  the  curves  of  her  mouth,  amid  the  shadows  of  the 
soft  dark  skin,  in  the  black  depths  of  the  eyes. 

"  How  unfortunate  for  me  !  "  he  said,  smiling  in  return. 

"Oh  yes,  of  course!  "  she  said  with  a  little  toss  of  her  head. 
"  There  is  no  danger  in  saying  that  now." 

"  I  wouldn't  care  if  there  was." 

"It  is  easy  to  smooth  down  the  serpent  when  the  fangs  are 
drawn,"  she  laughed  back. 

'•  What  an  extraordinary  comparison  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  But 
where  are  all  the  people  going?     It  isn't  all  over,  I  hope." 

"  Why,  what  do  you  want  to  stay  for?     You're  not  dancing." 

"  That  is  the  reason.     Unless  I  dance  with  you." 

"  And  then  you  would  want  to  go?"  she  flashed  with  mock 
resentment. 

"  I  see  you're  too  sharp  for  me,"  he  said  lugubriously. 
"  Roughing  it  among  the  Boers  makes  a  fellow  a  bit  dull  in 
compliments." 

"  Dull  indeed  !  "  said  Hannah,  drawing  herself  up  with  great 
seriousness.  "  I  think  you're  more  complimentary  than  you 
have  a  right  to  be  to  a  married  woman." 

His  face  fell.  "  Oh,  I  didn't  mean  anything,*'  he  said  apolo- 
getically. 

"  So  I  thought,"  retorted  Hannah. 


THE   PURIM  BALL.  133 

The  poor  fellow  grew  more  red  and  confused  than  ever. 
Hannah  felt  quite  sympathetic  with  him  now,  so  pleased  was 
she  at  the  humiliated  condition  to  which  she  had  brought  the 
young  man  from  the  Cape. 

"  Well,  ril  say  good-bye,"  he  said  awkwardly.  "  I  suppose 
I  mustn't  ask  to  take  you  down  to  supper.  I  dare  say  your 
husband  will  want  that  privilege."" 

"  I  dare  say,"  replied  Hannah  smiling.  "  Although  husbands 
do  not  always  appreciate  their  privileges." 

"  I  shall  be  glad  if  yours  doesn't,"  he  burst  forth. 
•     "  Thank  you  for  your  good  wishes  for  my  domestic  happiness," 
she  said  severely. 

"^  Oh,  why  will  you  misconstrue  everything  I  say? "he  pleaded. 
"  You  must  think  me  an  awful  Shlemihl,  putting  my  foot  into 
it  so  often.  Anyhow  I  hope  I  shall  meet  you  again  some- 
where." 

"  The  world  is  very  small,"  she  reminded  him. 

"  I  wish  I  knew  your  husband,"  he  said  ruefully. 

"Why?"  said  Hannah,  innocently. 

"  Because  I  could  call  on  him,"  he  replied,  smiling. 

"  Well,  you  do  know  him,"  she  could  not  help  saying. 

"Do  I?     Who  is  it?     I  don't  think  I  do,"  he  exclaimed. 

"  Well,  considering  he  introduced  you  to  me  ! " 

"  Sam  !  "  cried  David  startled. 

"Yes." 

"  But  —  "  said  David,  half  incredulously,  half  in  surprise.  He 
certainly  had  never  credited  Sam  with  the  wisdom  to  select  or 
the  merit  to  deserve  a  wife  like  this. 

"  But  what  ?  "  asked  Hannah  with  charming  naivete.  . 

"  He  said  —  I  —  I  —  at  least  I  think  he  said  —  I  —  I  — under- 
stood that  he  introduced  me  to  Miss  Solomon,  as  his  intended 
wife." 

Solomon  was  the  name  of  Malka's  first  husband,  and  so  of 
Leah . 

"  Quite  right,"  said  Hannah  simply. 

"  Then  —  what  —  how  ? "  he  stammered. 

"  She  was  his  intended  wife,"  explained  Hannah  as  if  she  were 


lU  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

telling  the  most  natural  thing  in  the  world.  "  Before  he  married 
me,  you  know." 

"  I —  I  beg  your  pardon  if  I  seemed  to  doubt  you.  I  really 
thought  you  were  joking." 

"  Why,  what  made  you  think  so?" 

"  Well,"  he  blurted  out.  "  He  didn't  mention  he  was  married, 
and  seeing  him  dancing  with  her  the  whole  time  —  " 

"  I  suppose  he  thinks  he  owes  her  some  attention,"  said  Han- 
nah indifferently.  "  By  way  of  compensation  probably.  I 
shouldn't  be  at  all  surprised  if  he  takes  her  down  to  supper  in- 
stead of  me." 

''There  he  is,  struggling  towards  the  buffet.  Yes,  he  has  her 
on  his  arm." 

'-'  You  speak  as  if  she  were  his  phylacteries,"  said  Hannah, 
smiling.  "  It  would  be  a  pity  to  disturb  them.  So,  if  you  like, 
you  can  have  me  on  your  arm,  as  you  put  it." 

The  young  man's  face  lit  up  with  pleasure,  the  keener  that  it 
was  unexpected. 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  have  such  phylacteries  on  my  arm,  as  you 
put  it,"  he  responded.  "  I  fancy  I  should  be  a  good  dt2i\  f roomer 
if  my  phylacteries  were  like  that." 

"  What,  aren't  youyvvw;//.^"  she  said,  as  they  joined  the  hungry 
procession  in  which  she  noted  Bessie  Sugarman  on  the  arm  of 
Daniel  Hyams. 

"  No,  Pm  a  regular  wrong'un,"  he  replied.  ''  As  for  phylac- 
teries, I  almost  forget  how  to  lay  them." 

"  That  is  bad,"  she  admitted,  though  he  could  not  ascertain 
her  own  point  of  view  from  the  tone. 

"  Well,  everybody  else  is  just  as  bad,"  he  said  cheerfully.  "All 
the  old  piety  seems  to  be  breaking  down.  It's  Purim,  but  how 
many  of  us  have  been  to  hear  the  —  the  what  do  you  call  it.-*  — 
the  Megillah  read?  There  is  actually  a  minister  here  to-night 
bare-headed.  And  how  many  of  us  are  going  to  wash  our  hands 
before  supper  or  boisli  afterwards,  I  should  like  to  know.  Why, 
it's  as  much  as  can  be  expected  if  the  food's  kosher,  and  there's 
no  ham  sandwiches  on  the  dishes.  Lord!  how  my  old  dad,  God 
rest  his  soul,  would  have  bean  horrified  by  such  a  party  as  this!  " 


THE  PURIM  BALL.  135 

"Yes,  it's  wonderful  how  ashamed  Jews  are  of  their  religion 
outside  a  synagogue !  ^'  said  Hannah  musingly.  "  My  father,  if 
he  were  here,  would  put  on  his  hat  after  supper  and  bensh,  though 
there  wasn't  another  man  in  the  room  to  follow  his  example." 

"And  I  should  admire  him  for  it,"  said  David,  earnestly, 
"  though  I  admit  I  shouldn't  follow  his  example  myself.  I  sup- 
pose he's  one  of  the  old  school." 

"  He  is  Reb  Shemuel,"  said  Hannah,  with  dignity. 

"Oh,  indeed!"  he  exclaimed,  not  without  surprise,  "I  know 
him  well.  He  used  to  bless  me  when  I  was  a  boy,  and  it  used  to 
cost  him  a  halfpenny  a  time.     Such  a  jolly  fellow!  " 

"  I'm  so  glad  you  think  so,"  said  Hannah  flushing  with 
pleasure. 

"Of  course  I  do.  Does  he  still  have  all  those  Greeners  com- 
ing to  ask  him  questions?  " 

"  Oh,  yes.     Their  piety  is  just  the  same  as  ever." 

"  They're  poor,"  observed  David.  "  It's  always  those  poorest 
in  worldly  goods  who  are  richest  in  religion." 

"Well,  isn't  that  a  compensation?"  returned  Hannah,  with  a 
little  sigh.  "  But  from  my  father's  point  of  view,  the  truth  is 
rather  that  those  who  have  most  pecuniary  difficulties  have  most 
religious  difficulties." 

"  Ah,  I  suppose  they  come  to  your  father  as  much  to  solve  the 
first  as  the  second." 

"  Father  is  very  good,"  she  said  simply. 

They  had  by  this  time  obtained  something  to  eat,  and  for  a 
minute  or  so  the  dialogue  became  merely  dietary. 

"  Do  you  know,"  he  said  in  the  course  of  the  meal,  "  I  feel  I 
ought  not  to  have  told  you  what  a  wicked  person  I  am?  I  put 
my  foot  into  it  there,  too." 

"No,  why?" 

"  Because  you  are  Reb  Shemuel's  daughter." 

"  Oh,  what  nonsense!  I  like  to  hear  people  speak  their  minds. 
Besides,  you  mustn't  fancy  I'm  2.sfroo?n  as  my  father." 

"  I  don't  fancy  that.  Not  quite,"  he  laughed.  "  I  know  there's 
some  blessed  old  law  or  other  by  which  women  haven't  got  the 
same  chance  of  distinguishing  themselves  that  way  as  men.     I 


136  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

have  a  vague  recollection  of  saying  a  prayer  thanking  God  for 
not  having  made  me  a  woman/' 

"Ah,  that  must  have  been  a  long  time  ago,"  she  said  slyly. 

"Yes,  when  I  was  a  boy,''  he  admitted.  Then  the  oddity 
of  the  premature  thanksgiving  struck  them  both  and  they 
laughed. 

"  YouVe  got  a  different  form  provided  for  you,  haven't  you  ? " 
he  said. 

"  Yes,  I  have  to  thank  God  for  having  made  me  according  to 
His  will." 

"You  don't  seem  satisfied  for  all  that,"  he  said,  struck  by 
something  in  the  way  she  said  it. 

"How  can  a  woman  be  satisfied?"  she  asked,  looking  up 
frankly.  "  She  has  no  voice  in  her  destinies.  She  must  shut 
her  eyes  and  open  her  mouth  and  swallow  what  it  pleases  God 
to  send  her." 

"  All  right,  shut  your  eyes,"  he  said,  and  putting  his  hand  over 
them  he  gave  her  a  titbit  and  restored  the  conversation  to  a 
more  flippant  level. 

"  You  mustn't  do  that,"  she  said.  "  Suppose  my  husband  were 
to  see  you." 

"Oh,  bother!"  he  said.  "I  don't  know  why  it  is,  but  I  don't 
seem  to  realize  you're  a  married  woman." 

"  Am  I  playing  the  part  so  badly  as  all  that  ? " 

"  Is  it  a  part?"  he  cried  eagerly. 

She  shook  her  head.  His  face  fell  again.  She  could  hardly 
fail  to  note  the  change. 

"  No,  it's  a  stern  reality,"  she  said.     "  I  wish  it  wasn't." 

It  seemed  a  bold  confession,  but  it  was  easy  to  understand. 
Sam  had  been  an  old  school-fellow  of  his,  and  David  had  not 
thought  highly  of  him.     He  was  silent  a  moment. 

"  Are  you  not  happy  ?  "  he  said  gently. 

"Not  in  my  marriage." 

"  Sam  must  be  a  regular  brute!*'  he  cried  indignantly.  "He 
doesn't  know  how  to  treat  you.  He  ought  to  have  his  head 
punched  the  way  he's  going  on  with  that  fat  thing  in  red." 

"  Oh.  don't  run  her  down,"  said  Hannah,  struggling  to  repress 


THE  PURIM  BALL.  137 

her  emotions,  which  were  not  purely  of  laughter.  "  She's  my 
dearest  friend." 

"  They  always  are,''  said  David  oracularly.  "  But  how  came 
you  to  marry  him?  " 

"Accident,"  she  said  indifferently. 

"Accident!"  he  repeated,  open-eyed. 

"  Ah,  well,  it  doesn't  matter,"  said  Hannah,  meditatively  con- 
veying a  spoonful  of  trifle  to  her  mouth.  "  I  shall  be  divorced 
from  him  to-morrow.  Be  careful!  You  nearly  broke  that 
plate." 

David  stared  at  her,  open-mouthed. 

"  Going  to  be  divorced  from  him  to-morrow  ?  " 

"Yes,  is  there  anything  odd  about  it?" 

"  Oh,"  he  said,  after  staring  at  her  impassive  face  for  a  full 
minute.  "'  Now  I'm  sure  you've  been  making  fun  of  me  all 
along." 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Brandon,  why  will  you  persist  in  making  me 
out  a  liar? " 

He  was  forced  to  apologize  again  and  became  such  a  model 
of  perplexity  and  embarrassment  that  Hannah's  gravity  broke 
down  at  last  and  her  merry  peal  of  laughter  mingled  with  the 
clatter  of  plates  and  the  hubbub  of  voices. 

"I  must  take  pity  on  you  and  enlighten  you,"  she  said,  "but 
promise  me  it  shall  go  no  further.  It's  only  our  own  little  circle 
that  knows  about  it  and  I  don't  want  to  be  the  laughing-stock 
of  the  Lane." 

"  Of  course  I  will  promise,"  he  said  eagerly. 

She  kept  his  curiosity  on  the  qui  vive  to  amuse  herself  a  little 
longer,  but  ended  by  telling  him  all,  amid  frequent  exclamations 
of  surprise. 

"Well,  I  never!"  he  said  when  it  was  over.  "Fancy  a  relig- 
ion in  which  only  two  per  cent,  of  the  people  who  profess  it 
have  ever  heard  of  its  laws.  I  suppose  we're  so  mixed  up  with 
the  English,  that  it  never  occurs  to  us  we've  got  marriage  laws 
of  our  own  —  like  the  Scotch.  Anyhow  I'm  real  glad  and  I 
congratulate  you." 

"  On  what  ?  " 


138  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

"On  not  being  really  married  to  Sam." 

"  Well,  you're  a  nice  friend  of  his,  I  must  say.  I  don^t  con- 
gratulate myself,  I  can  tell  you." 

"  You  don't?  "  he  said  in  a  disappointed  tone. 

She  shook  her  head  silently. 

"Why  not?"  he  inquired  anxiously. 

"  Well,  to  tell  the  truth,  this  forced  marriage  was  my  only 
chance  of  getting  a  husband  who  wasn't  pious.  Don't  look  so 
puzzled.  ■  I  wasn't  shocked  at  your  wickedness  —  you  mustn't  be 
at  mine.-  You  know  there's  such  a  lot  of  religion  in  our  house 
that  I  thought  if  I  ever  did  get  married  I'd  like  a  change." 

"  Ha!  ha!  ha!  So  you're  as  the  rest  of  us.  Well,  it's  plucky 
of  you  to  admit  it." 

"  Don't  see  it.  My  living  doesn't  depend  on  religion,  thank 
Heaven.  Father's  a  saint,  I  know,  but  he  swallows  everything 
he  sees  in  his  books  just  as  he  swallows  everything  mother  and 
I  put  before  him  in  his  plate  —  and  in  spite  of  it  all  —  "  She 
was  about  to  mention  Levi's  shortcomings  but  checked  herself 
in  time.  She  had  no  right  to  unveil  anybody's  soul  but  her  own 
and  she  didn't  know  why  she  was  doing  that. 

"  But  you  don't  mean  to  say  your  father  would  forbid  you  to 
marry  a  man  you  cared  for,  just  because  he  \\2isn\  f?'oom  ? '''' 

"  I'm  sure  he  would." 

"  But  that  would  be  cruel." 

"  He  wouldn't  think  so.  He'd  think  he  was  saving  my  soul, 
and  you  must  remember  he  can't  imagine  any  one  who  has  been 
taught  to  see  its  beauty  not  loving  the  yoke  of  the  Law.  He's 
the  best  father  in  the  world  —  but  when  religion's  concerned,  the 
best-hearted  of  mankind  are  liable  to  become  hard  as  stone. 
You  don't  know  my  father  as  I  do.  But  apart  from  that,  I 
wouldn't  marry  a  man,  myself,  who  might  hurt  my  father's  posi- 
tion. I  should  have  to  keep  a  kosher  house  or  look  how  people 
would  talk !  " 

"  And  wouldn't  you  if  you  had  your  own  way  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  what  I  would  do.  It's  so  impossible,  the  idea 
of  my  having  my  own  way.  I  think  I  should  probably  go  in 
for  a  change,  I'm  so  tired  —  so  tired  of  this  eternal  ceremony. 


THE  PURIM  BALL.  -  139 

Always  washing  up  plates  and  dishes.  I  dare  say  it's  all  for  our 
good,  but  I  am  so  tired." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  see  much  difficulty  about  Koshers.  I  always  eat 
kosher  meat  myself  when  I  can  get  it,  providing  it's  not  so 
beastly  tough  as  it  has  a  knack  of  being.  Of  course  it's  absurd 
to  expect  a  man  to  go  without  meat  when  he's  travelling  up 
country,  just  because  it  hasn't  been  killed  with  a  knife  instead 
of  a  pole-axe.  Besides,  don't  we  know  well  enough  that  the 
folks  who  are  most  particular  about  those  sort  of  things  don't 
mind  swindling  and  setting  their  houses  on  fire  and  all  manner 
of  abominations  ?  I  wouldn't  be  a  Christian  for  the  world,  but  I 
should  like  to  see  a  little  more  common-sense  introduced  into 
our  religion ;  it  ought  to  be  more  up  to  date.  If  ever  I  marry,  I 
should  like  my  wife  to  be  a  girl  who  wouldn't  want  to  keep  any- 
thing but  the  higher  parts  of  Judaism.  Not  out  of  laziness, 
mind  you,  but  out  of  conviction." 

David  stopped  suddenly,  surprised  at  his  own  sentiments, 
which  he  learned  for  the  first  time.  However  vaguely  they 
might  have  been  simmering  in  his  brain,  he  could  not  honestly 
accuse  himself  of  having  ever  bestowed  any  reflection  on  "  the 
higher  parts  of  Judaism ''  or  even  on  the  religious  convictions 
apart  from  the  racial  aspects  of  his  future  wife.  Could  it  be  that 
Hannah's  earnestness  was  infecting  him? 

"Oh,  then  you  w^///<^ marry  a  Jewess!  "  said  Hannah. 

"  Oh,  of  course,"  he  said  in  astonishment.  Then  as  he  looked 
at  her  pretty,  earnest  face  the  amusing  recollection  that  she  was 
married  already  came  over  him  with  a  sort  of  shock,  not  wholly 
comical.  There  was  a  minute  of  silence,  each  pursuing  a  sep- 
arate train  of  thought.  Then  David  wound  up,  as  if  there  had 
been  no  break,  with  an  elliptical,  •'  wouldn't  you?" 

Hannah  shrugged  her  shoulders  and  elevated  her  eyebrows  in 
a  gesture  that  lacked  her  usual  grace. 

"  Not  if  I  had  only  to  please  myself,"  she  added. 

"Oh,  come!  Don't  say  that,"  he  said  anxiously.  "I  don't 
believe  mixed  marriages  are  a  success.  Really,  I  don't.  Besides, 
look  at  the  scandal !  " 

Again  she  shrugged  her  shoulders,  defiantly  this  time. 


140  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

"I  don''t  suppose  I  shall  ever  get  married,"  she  said.  "I 
never  could  marry  a  man  father  would  approve  of,  so  that  a 
Christian  would  be  no  worse  than  an  educated  Jew." 

David  did  not  quite  grasp  the  sentence ;  he  was  trying  to, 
when  Sam  and  Leah  passed  them.  Sam  winked  in  a  friendly  if 
not  very  refined  manner. 

"  I  see  you  two  are  getting  on  all  right,"  he  said. 

"Good  gracious!"  said  Hannah,  starting  up  with  a  blush. 
"  Everybody's  going  back.  They  will  think  us  greedy.  What  a 
pair  of  fools  we  are  to  have  got  into  such  serious  conversation 
at  a  ball." 

"  Was  it  serious  ? "  said  David  with  a  retrospective  air.  "  Well, 
I  never  enjoyed  a  conversation  so  much  in  my  life." 

"  You  mean  the  supper,"  Hannah  said  lightly. 

"  Well,  both.  It's  your  fault  that  we  don't  behave  more 
appropriately.'' 

"  How  do  you  mean?" 

"  You  won't  dance." 

"Do  you  want  to?  " 

"  Rather." 

"  I  thought  you  were  afraid  of  all  the  swells." 

"  Supper  has  given  me  courage." 

"  Oh,  very  well  if  you  want  to,  that's  to  say  if  you  really  can 
waltz." 

"Try  me,  only  you  must  allow  for  my  being  out  of  practice. 
I  didn't  get  many  dances  at  the  Cape,  I  can  tell  you." 

"The  Cape!"  Hannah  heard  the  words  without  making  her 
usual  grimace.  She  put  her  hand  lightly  on  his  shoulder,  he 
encircled  her  waist  with  his  arm  and  they  surrendered  them- 
selves to  the  intoxication  of  the  slow,  voluptuous  music. 


THE   SONS   OF  THE    COVENANT.  141 

CHAPTER   XII. 

THE   SONS   OF   THE   COVENANT. 

The  "  Sons  of  the  Covenant "  sent  no  representatives  to  the 
club  balls,  wotting  neither  of  waltzes  nor  of  dress-coats,  and  pre- 
ferring death  to  the  embrace  of  a  strange  dancing  woman.  They 
were  the  congregation  of  which  Mr.  Belcovitch  was  President 
and  their  synagogue  was  the  ground  floor  of  No.  i  Royal  Street 
—  two  large  rooms  knocked  into  one,  and  the  rear  partitioned 
off  for  the  use  of  the  bewigged,  heavy-jawed  women  who  might 
not  sit  with  the  men  lest  they  should  fascinate  their  thoughts 
away  from  things  spiritual.  Its  furniture  was  bare  benches,  a 
raised  platform  with  a  reading  desk  in  the  centre  and  a  wooden 
curtained  ark  at  the  end  containing  two  parchment  scrolls  of  the 
Law,  each  with  a  silver  pointer  and  silver  bells  and  pomegran- 
ates. The  scrolls  were  in  manuscript,  for  the  printing-press  has 
never  yet  sullied  the  s^anctity  of  the  synagogue  editions  of  the 
Pentateuch.  The  room  was  badly  ventilated  and  what  little  air 
there  was  was  generally  sucked  up  by  a  greedy  company  of  wax- 
candles,  big  and  little,  struck  in  brass  holders.  The  back 
window  gave  on  the  yard  and  the  contiguous  cow-sheds,  and 
"  moos "  mingled  with  the  impassioned  supplications  of  the 
worshippers,  who  came  hither  two  and  three  times  a  day  to  bat- 
ter the  gates  of  heaven  and  to  listen  to  sermons  more  exegetical 
than  ethical.  They  dropped  in,  mostly  in  *their  work-a-day 
garments  and  grime,  and  rumbled  and  roared  and  chorused 
prayers  with  a  zeal  that  shook  the  window-panes,  and  there  w^s 
never  lack  of  tniiiyan — the  congregational  quorum  of  ten.  (\n 
the  West  End,  synagogues  are  built  to  eke  out  the  income  of 
poor  jnmyan-jnen  or  professional  congregants  ;  in  the  East  End 
rooms  are  tricked  up  for  prayer.  This  synagogue  was  all  of 
luxury  many  of  its  Sons  could  boast.  It  was  their  salon  and 
their  lecture-hall.  It  supplied  them  not  only  with  their  religion 
but  their  art  and  letters,  their  politics  and  their  public  amuse- 


142  CHILDREN  OF  THE    GHETTO. 

ments.  It  was  their  home  as  well  as  the  Almighty's,  and  on 
occasion  they  were  familiar  and  even  a  little  vulgar  with  Him. 
It  was  a  place  in  which  they  could  sit  in  their  slippers,  meta- 
phorically that  is  ;  for  though  they  frequently  did  so  literally,  it 
was  by  way  of  reverence,  not  ease.  They  enjoyed  themselves 
in  this  Shool  of  theirs  ;  they  shouted  and  skipped  and  shook  and 
sang,  they  wailed  and  moaned ;  they  clenched  their  fists  and 
thumped  their  breasts  and  they  were  not  least  happy  when  they 
were  crying.  There  is  an  apocryphal  anecdote  of  one  of  them 
being  in  the  act  of  taking  a  pinch  of  snuff  when  the  "  Confes- 
sion "  caught  him  unexpectedly. 

"  We  have  trespassed,"  he  wailed  mechanically,  as  he  spas- 
modically put  the  snuff  in  his  bosom  and  beat  his  nose  with  his 
clenched  fist. 

They  prayed  metaphysics,  acrostics,  angelology,  Cabalah,  his- 
tory, exegetics,  Talmudical  controversies,  memcs,  recipes,  priestly 
prescriptions,  the  canonical  books,  psalms,  love-poems,  an  undi- 
gested hotch-potch  of  exalted  and  questionable  sentiments,  of 
communal  and  egoistic  aspirations  of  the  highest  order.  It  was 
a  wonderful  liturgy,  as  grotesque  as  it  was  beautiful  —  like  an 
old  cathedral  in  all  styles  of  architecture,  stored  with  shabby 
antiquities  and  side-shows  and  overgrown  with  moss  and  lichen 
—  a  heterogeneous  blend  of  historical  strata  of  all  periods,  in 
which  gems  of  poetry  and  pathos  and  spiritual  fer\'or  glittered 
and  pitiful  records  of  ancient  persecution  lay  petrified.  And  the 
method  of  praying  these  things  was  equally  complex  and  un- 
couth, equally  the  bond-slave  of  tradition ;  here  a  rising  and 
there  a  bow,  now  three  steps  backwards  and  now  a  beating  of 
the  breast,  this  bit  for  the  congregation  and  that  for  the  minis- 
ter, variants  of  a  page,  a  word,  a  syllable,  even  a  vowel,  ready 
for  every  possible  contingency.  Their  religious  consciousness 
was  largely  a  musical  box — the  thrill  of  the  ram's  horn,  the 
cadenza  of  psalmic  phrase,  the  jubilance  of  a  festival  "Amen" 
and  the  sobriety  of  a  work-a-day  "Amen,"  the  Passover  mel- 
odies and  the  Pentecost,  the  minor  keys  of  Atonement  and  the 
hilarious  rhapsodies  of  Rejoicing,  the  plain  chant  of  the  Law 
and  the  more  ornate  intonation  of  the  Prophets  —  all  this  was 


THE   SONS   OF   THE    COVENANT.  143 

known  and  loved  and  was  far  more  important  than  the  meaning 
of  it  all  or  its  relation  to  their  real  lives  ;  for  page  upon  page 
was  gabbled  off  at  rates  that  could  not  be  excelled  by  automata. 
But  if  they  did  not  always  know  what-  they  were  saying  they 
always  meant  it.  If  the  serv'ice  had  been  more  intelligible  it 
would  have  been  less  emotional  and  edifying.  There  was  not 
a  sentiment,  however  incomprehensible,  for  which  they  were 
not  ready  to  die  or  to  damn. 

"All  Israel  are  brethren/'  and  indeed  there  w^as  a  strange 
antique  clannishness  about  these  ''Sons  of  the  Covenant" 
which  in  the  modern  world,  where  the  ends  of  the  ages  meet,  is 
Socialism.  They  prayed  for  one  another  while  alive,  visited 
one  another's  bedsides  when  sick,  buried  one  another  when 
dead.  No  mercenary  hands  poured  the  yolks  of  eggs  over  their 
dead  faces  and  arrayed  their  corpses  in  their  praying-shawls. 
No  hired  masses  were  said  for  the  sick  or  the  troubled,  for  the 
psalm-singing  services  of  the  "  Sons  of  the  Covenant "  were 
always  available  for  petitioning  the  Heavens,  even  though  their 
brother  had  been  arrested  for  buying  stolen  goods,  and  the  ser- 
vice might  be  an  invitation  to  Providence  to  compound  a  felony. 
Little  charities  of  their  own  they  had,  too  —  a  Sabbath  Meal 
Society,  and  a  Marriage  Portion  Society  to  buy  the  sticks  for 
poor  couples  —  and  when  a  pauper  countryman  arrived  from 
Poland,  one  of  them  boarded  him  and  another  lodged  him  and 
a  third  taught  him  a  trade.  Strange  exotics  in  a  land  of  prose 
carrying  with  them  through  the  paven  highways  of  London 
the  odor  of  Continental  Ghettos  and  bearing  in  their  eyes 
through  all  the  shrewdness  of  their  glances  the  eternal  mysti- 
cism of  the  Orient,  where  God  was  born  !  Hawkers  and  ped- 
dlers, tailors  and  cigar-makers,  cobblers  and  furriers,  glaziers 
and  cap-makers  —  this  was  in  sum  their  life.  To  pray  much 
and  to  work  long,  to  beg  a  little  and  to  cheat  a  little,  to  eat  not 
over-much  and  to  "  drink  "  scarce  at  all,  to  beget  annual  children 
by  chaste  wives  (disallowed  them  half  the  year),  and  to  rear 
them  not  over-well,  to  study  the  Law  and  the  Prophets  and 
to  reverence  the  Rabbinical  tradition  and  the  chaos  of  com- 
mentaries expounding  it,  to  abase  themselves  before  the  "  Life 


144  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

of  Man"  and  Joseph  Caro's  '' Prepared  Table''  as  though  the 
authors  had  presided  at  the  foundation  of  the  earth,  to  wear 
phylacteries  and  fringes,  to  keep  the  beard  unshaven,  and  the 
corners  of  the  hair  uncut,  to  know  no  work  on  Sabbath  and  no 
rest  on  week-day.  It  was  a  series  of  recurrent  landmarks,  ritual 
and  historical,  of  intimacy  with  God  so  continuous  that  they 
were  in  danger  of  forgetting  His  existence  as  of  the  air  they 
breathed.  They  ate  unleavened  bread  in  Passover  and  blessed 
the  moon  and  counted  the  days  of  the  Omer  till  Pentecost  saw  the 
synagogue  dressed  with  flowers  in  celebration  of  an  Asiatic  fruit 
harvest  by  a  European  people  divorced  from  agriculture ;  they 
passed  to  the  terrors  and  triumphs  of  the  New  Year  (with  its 
domestic  symbolism  of  apple  and  honey  and  its  procession  to 
the  river)  and  the  revelry  of  repentance  on  the  Great  White 
Fast,  when  they  burned  long  candles  and  whirled  fowls  round 
their  heads  and  attired  themselves  in  grave-clothes  and  saw 
from  their  seats  in  synagogue  the  long  fast-day  darken  slowly 
into  dusk,  while  God  was  sealing  the  decrees  of  life  and  death ; 
they  passed  to  Tabernacles  when  they  ran  up  rough  booths  in 
back  yards  draped  with  their  bed-sheets  and  covered  with  green- 
ery, and  bore  through  the  streets  citrons  in  boxes  and  a  waving 
combination  of  myrtle,  and  palm  and  willow  branches,  where- 
with they  made  a  pleasant  rustling  in  the  synagogue ;  and 
thence  to  the  Rejoicing  of  the  Law  when  they  danced  and 
drank  rum  in  the  House  of  the  Lord  and  scrambled  sweets  for 
the  little  ones,  and  made  a  sevenfold  circuit  with  the  two  scrolls, 
supplemented  by  toy  flags  and  children's  candles  stuck  in  hollow 
carrots  ;  and  then  on  again  to  Dedication  with  its  celebration  of 
the  Maccaba^an  deliverance  and  the  miracle  of  the  unwaning  oil 
in  the  Temple,  and  to  Purim  with  its  masquerading  and  its  exe- 
cration of  Haman's  name  by  the  banging  of  little  hammers  ;  and 
so  back  to  Passover.  And  with  these  larger  cycles,  epicycles  of 
minor  fasts  and  feasts,  multiplex,  not  to  be  overlooked,  from  the 
fast  of  the  ninth  of  Ab  —  fatal  day  for  the  race  —  when  they  sat 
on  the  ground  in  shrouds,  and  wailed  for  the  destruction  of 
Jerusalem,  to  the  feast  of  the  Great  Hosannah  when  they 
whipped  away  willow-leaves  on  the  Shool  benches  in  symbolism 


THE   SONS   OF   THE    COVENANT.  145 

of  forgiven  sins,  sitting  up  the  whole  of  the  night  before  in  a 
long  paroxysm  of  prayer  mitigated  by  coffee  and  cakes ;  from 
the  period  in  which  nuts  were  prohibited  to  the  period  in  which 
marriages  were  commended. 

And  each  day,  too,  had  its  cycles  of  religious  duty,  its  compre- 
hensive and  cumbrous  ritual  with  accretions  of  commentary  and 
tradition. 

And  every  contingency  of  the  individual  life  was  equally  pro- 
vided for,  and  the  writings  that  regulated  all  this  complex  ritual 
are  a  marvellous  monument  of  the  patience,  piety  and  juristic 
genius  of  the  race —  and  of  the  persecution  which  threw  it  back 
upon  its  sole  treasure,  the  Law, 

Thus  they  lived  and  died,  these  Sons  of  the  Covenant,  half- 
automata,  sternly  disciplined  by  voluntary  and  involuntary  pri- 
vation, hemmed  and  mewed  in  by  iron  walls  of  form  and  poverty, 
joyfully  ground  under  the  perpetual  rotary  wheel  of  ritualism, 
good-humored  withal  and  casuistic  like  all  people  whose  religion 
stands  much  upon  ceremony ;  inasmuch  as  a  ritual  law  comes  to 
count  one  equally  with  a  moral,  and  a  man  is  not  half  bad  who 
does  three-fourths  of  his  duty. 

And  so  the  stuffy  room  with  its  guttering  candles  and  its 
chameleon-colored  ark-curtain  was  the  pivot  of  their  barren  lives. 
Joy  came  to  bear  to  it  the  offering  of  its  thanksgiving  and  to 
vow  sixpenny  bits  to  the  Lord,  prosperity  came  in  a  high  hat  to 
chaffer  for  the  holy  privileges,  and  grief  came  with  rent  garments 
to  lament  the  beloved  dead  and  glorify  the  name  of  the  Eternal. 

The  poorest  life  is  to  itself  the  universe  and  all  that  therein  is, 
and  these  humble  products  of  a  great  and  terrible  past,  strange 
fruits  of  a  motley-flowering  secular  tree  whose  roots  are  in 
Canaan  and  whose  boughs  overshadow  the  earth,  were  all  the 
happier  for  not  knowing  that  the  fulness  of  life  was  not  theirs. 

And  the  years  went  rolling  on,  and  the  children  grew  up  and 
here  and  there  a  parent. 

The  elders  of  the  synagogue  were  met  in  council. 

"  He  is  greater  than  a  Prince,"  said  the  Shalotten  Shamitios. 

"  If  all  the  Princes  of  the  Earth  were  put  in  one  scale,"  said 

L 


146  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

Mr.  Belcovitch,  "  and  our  Maggid,  Moses,  in  the  other,  he  would 
outweigh  them  all.  He  is  worth  a  hundred  of  the  Chief  Rabbi 
of  England,  who  has  been  seen  bareheaded." 

"  From  Moses  to  Moses  there  has  been  none  like  Moses,"  said 
old  Mendel  Hyams,  interrupting  the  Yiddish  with  a  Hebrew 
quotation. 

"  Oh  no,"  said  the  Shalotten  Sha7nmoSy  who  was  a  great  stickler 
for  precision,  being,  as  his  nickname  implied,  a  master  of  ceremo- 
nies.    "  I  can't  admit  that.     Look  at  my  brother  Nachmann." 

There  was  a  general  laugh  at  the  Shalotten  Shaimnos's  bull ; 
the  proverb  dealing  only  with  Moseses. 

"  He  has  the  true  gift,"  observed  Froovi  Karlkammer,  shaking 
the  flames  of  his  hair  pensively.  "  For  ihe  letters  of  his  name 
have  the  same  numerical  value  as  those  of  the  great  Moses  da 
Leon." 

Frooni  Karlkammer  was  listened  to  with  respect,  for  he  was 
an  honorary  member  of  the  committee,  who  paid  for  two  seats  in 
a  larger  congregation  and  only  worshipped  with  the  Sons  of  the 
Covenant  on  special  occasions.  The  Shalotten  Shavtutos,  how- 
ever, was  of  contradictory  temperament  —  a  born  dissentient, 
upheld  by  a  steady  consciousness  of  highly  superior  English,  the 
drop  of  bitter  in  Belcovitch's  presidential  cup.  He  was  a  long 
thin  man,  who  towered  above  the  congregation,  and  was  as  tall 
as  the  bulk  of  them  even  when  he  was  bowing  his  acknowledg- 
ments to  his  Maker. 

"How  do  you  make  that  out?"  he  asked  Karlkammer. 
"Moses  of  course  adds  up  the  same  as  Moses  —  but  while  the 
other  part  of  the  Maggid''s  name  makes  seventy-three,  da  Leon's 
makes  ninety-one." 

"  Ah,  that's  because  youVe  ignorant  of  Gematriyah^''  said  little 
Karlkammer,  looking  up  contemptuously  at  the  cantankerous 
giant.  "  You  reckon  all  the  letters  on  the  same  system,  and 
you  omit  to  give  yourself  the  license  of  deleting  the  ciphers." 

In  philology  it  is  well  known  that  all  consonants  are  inter- 
changeable and  vowels  don't  count ;  in  Gemairiyah  any  letter  may 
count  for  anything,  and  the  total  may  be  summed  up  anyhow. 

Karlkammer  was  one  of  the  curiosities  of  the  Ghetto.     In  a 


THE   SONS   OF   THE    COVENANT.  147 

land  oifroo/n  men  he  was  ihtfroomest.  He  had  the  very  genius 
of  fanaticism.  On  the  Sabbath  lie  spoke  nothing  but  Hebrew 
whatever  the  inconvenience  and  however  numerous  the  misun- 
derstandings, and  if  he  perchance  paid  a  visit  he  would  not  per- 
form the  "  work  "  of  lifting  the  knocker.  Of  course  he  had  his 
handkerchief  girt  round  his  waist  to  save  him  from  carrying  it, 
but  this  compromise  being  general  was  not  characteristic  of 
Karlkammer  any  more  than  his  habit  of  wearing  two  gigantic 
sets  of  phylacteries  where  average  piety  was  content  with  one  of 
moderate  size. 

One  of  the  walls  of  his  room  had  an  unpapered  and  unpainted 
scrap  in  mourning  for  the  fall  of  Jerusalem.  He  walked  through 
the  streets  to  synagogue  attired  in  his  praying-shawl  and  phylac- 
teries, and  knocked  three  times  at  the  door  of  God's  house  when 
he  arrived.  On  the  Day  of  Atonement  he  walked  in  his  socks, 
though  the  heavens  fell,  wearing  his  grave-clothes.  On  this  day 
he  remained  standing  in  synagogue  from  6  a.m.  to  7  p.m.  with 
his  body  bent  at  an  angle  of  ninety  degrees  ;  it  was  to  give  him 
bending  space  that  he  hired  two  seats.  On  Tabernacles,  not 
having  any  ground  whereon  to  erect  a  booth,  by  reason  of  living 
in  an  attic,  he  knocked  a  square  hole  in  the  ceiling,  covered  it 
with  branches  through  which  the  free  air  of  heaven  played,  and 
hung  a  quadrangle  of  sheets  from  roof  to  floor ;  he  bore  to  syna- 
gogue the  tallest  Lulav  of  palm-branches  that  could  be  procured 
and  quarrelled  with  a  rival  pietist  for  the  last  place  in  the  floral 
procession,  as  being  the  lowliest  and  meekest  man  in  Israel  — 
an  ethical  pedestal  equally  claimed  by  his  rival.  He  insisted  on 
bearing  a  corner  of  the  biers  of  all  the  righteous  dead.  Almost 
every  other  day  was  a  fast-day  for  Karlkammer,  and  he  had  a 
host  of  supplementary  ceremonial  observances  which  are  not  for 
the  vulgar.  Compared  with  him  Moses  Ansell  and  the  ordinary 
"  Sons  of  the  Covenant ''  were  mere  heathens.  He  was  a  man 
of  prodigious  distorted  mental  activity.  He  had  read  omnivo- 
rously  amid  the  vast  stores  of  Hebrew  literature,  was  a  great 
authority  on  Cabalah,  understood  astronomy,  and,  still  more, 
astrology,  was  strong  on  finance,  and  could  argue  coherently  on 
any  subject  outside  religion.     His  letters  to  the  press  on  specifi- 


148  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

cally  Jewish  subjects  were  the  most  hopeless,  involved,  incompre- 
hensible and  protracted  puzzles  ever  penned,  bristling  with 
Hebrew  quotations  from  the  most  varying,  the  most  irrelevant 
and  the  most  mutually  incongruous  sources  and  peppered  with 
the  dates  of  birth  and  death  of  every  Rabbi  mentioned. 

No  one  had  ever  been  known  to  follow  one  of  these  argumen- 
tations to  the  bitter  end.  They  were  written  in  good  English 
modified  by  a  few  peculiar  terms  used  in  senses  unsuspected  by 
dictionary-makers ;  in  a  beautiful  hand,  with  the  t^s  uncrossed, 
but  crowned  with  the  side-stroke,  so  as  to  avoid  the  appearance 
of  the  symbol  of  Christianity,  and  with  the  dates  expressed 
according  to  the  Hebrew  Calendar,  for  Karlkammer  refused  to 
recognize  the  chronology  of  the  Christian.  He  made  three 
copies  of  every  letter,  and  each  was  exactly  like  the  others  in 
every  word  and  every  line.  His  bill  for  midnight  oil  must  have 
been  extraordinary,  for  he  was  a  business  man  and  had  to  earn 
his  living  by  day.  Kept  within  the  limits  of  sanity  by  a  religion 
without  apocalyptic  visions,  he  was  saved  from  predicting  the 
end  of  the  world  by  mystic  calculations,  but  he  used  them  to 
prove  everything  else  and  fervently  believed  that  endless  mean- 
ings were  deducible  from  the  numerical  value  of  Biblical  words, 
that  not  a  curl  at  the  tail  of  a  letter  of  any  word  in  any  sentence 
but  had  its  supersubtle  significance.  The  elaborate  cipher  with 
which  Bacon  is  alleged  to  have  written  Shakspeare's  plays  was 
mere  child's  play  compared  with  the  infinite  revelations  which  in 
Karlkammer's  belief  the  Deity  left  latent  in  writing  the  Old  Tes- 
tament from  Genesis  to  Malachi,  and  in  inspiring  the  Talmud 
and  the  holier  treasures  of  Hebrew  literature.  Nor  were  these 
ideas  of  his  own  origination.  His  was  an  eclectic  philosophy  and 
religionism,  of  which  all  the  elements  were  discoverable  in  old 
Hebrew  books ;  scraps  of  Alexandrian  philosophy  inextricably 
blent  with  Aristotelian,  Platonic,  mystic. 

He  kept  up  a  copious  correspondence  with  scholars  in  other 
countries  and  was  universally  esteemed  and  pitied. 

"We  haven't  come  to  discuss  the  figures  of  the  Maggid's 
name,  but  of  his  salary,"  said  Mr.  Belcovitch,  who  prided  himself 
on  his  capacity  for  conducting  public  business. 


THE   SONS   OF   THE    COVENANT.  149 

"I  have  examined  the  finances,"  said  Karlkammer,  "and  I 
don't  see  how  we  can  possibly  put  aside  more  for  our  preacher 
than  the  pound  a  week.'" 

"But  he  is  not  satisfied,"  said  Mr.  Belcovitch. 

"  I  don't  see  why  he  shouldn't  be,"  said  the  Shalotten  Shain- 
mos.     "  A  pound  a  week  is  luxury  for  a  single  man." 

The  Sons  of  the  Covenant  did  not  know  that  the  poor  con- 
sumptive Maggid  sent  half  his  salary  to  his  sisters  in  Poland  to 
enable  them  to  buy  back  their  husbands  from  military  service ; 
also  they  had  vague  unexpressed  ideas  that  he  was  not  mortal, 
that  Heaven  would  look  after  his  larder,  that  if  the  worst  came  to 
the  worst  he  could  fall  back  on  Cabalah  and  engage  himself  with 
the  mysteries  of  food-creation. 

"  I  have  a  wife  and  family  to  keep  on  a  pound  a  week,"  grum- 
bled Greenberg  the  Chazan. 

Besides  being  Reader,  Greenberg  blew  the  horn  and  killed 
cattle  and  circumcised  male  infants  and  educated  children  and 
discharged,  the  functions  of  beadle  and  collector.  He  spent  a 
great  deal  of  his  time  in  avoiding  being  drawn  into  the  contend- 
ing factions  of  the  congregation  and  in  steering  equally  between 
Belcovitch  and  the  Shalotten  Shammos.  The  Sons  only  gave 
him  fifty  a  year  for  all  his  trouble,  but  they  eked  it  out  by  allow- 
ing him  to  be  on  the  Committee,  where  on  the  question  of  a  rise 
in  the  Reader's  salary  he  was  always  an  ineffective  minority  of 
one.  His  other  grievance  was  that  for  the  High  Festivals  the 
Sons  temporarily  engaged  a  finer  voiced  Reader  and  advertised 
him  at  raised  prices  to  repay  themselves  out  of  the  surplus 
congregation.  Not  only  had  Greenberg  to  play  second  fiddle 
on  these  grand  occasions,  but  he  had  to  iterate  "  Pom  "  as  a  sort 
of  musical  accompaniment  in  the  pauses  of  his  rival's  vocalization. 

"  You  can't  compare  yourself  with  the  Maggid,^''  the  Shalotten 
Shammos  reminded  him  consolingly.  "  There  are  hundreds  of 
you  in  the  market.  There  are  several  morceaux  of  the  service 
which  you  do  not  sing  half  so  well  as  your  predecessor;  your 
horn-blowing  cannot  compete  with  Freedman's  of  the  Fashion 
Street  Chevrah,  nor  can  you  read  the  Law  as  quickly  and  accu- 
rately as  Prochintski.     I  have  told  you  over  and  over  again  you 


150  CHILDREN   OF   THE    GHETTO. 

confound  the  air  of  the  Passover  Yigdal\v\\\\  the  New  Year  ditto. 
And  then  your  preliminary  flourish  to  the  Confession  of  Sin  —  it 
goes  '  Ei,  Ei,  Ei,  Ei,  Ei,  Ei,  Ei ' ''  (he  mimicked  Greenberg^s  mel- 
ody) "  whereas  it  should  be  '  Oi,  Oi,  Oi,  Oi,  Oi,  Oi.'  " 

"Oh  no,"  intermpted  Belcovitch.  "All  the  Chazanwi  Fve 
ever  heard  do  it '  Ei,  Ei,  Ei.'  " 

"  You  are  not  entitled  to  speak  on  this  subject,  Belcovitch," 
said  the  Shalotten  Shainjnos  warmly.  '•  You  are  a  Man-of-the- 
Earth.     I  have  heard  every  great  Chazan  in  Europe." 

"  What  was  good  enough  for  my  father  is  good  enough  for 
me,"  retorted  Belcovitch.  "The  Shool\\^  took  me  to  at  home 
had  a  beautiful  Chazan^  and  he  always  sang  it  '  Ei,  Ei,  Ei.'  " 

"I  don't  care  what  you  heard  at  home.  In  England  every 
Chazaji  sings  '  Oi,  Oi,  Oi.'  " 

"  We  can't  take  our  tune  from  England,"  said  Karlkammer  re- 
provingly. "  England  is  a  polluted  country  by  reason  of  the  Re- 
formers whom  we  were  compelled  to  excommunicate." 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  that  my  father  was  an  Epicurean?" 
asked  Belcovitch  indignantly.  "  The  tune  was  as  Greenberg 
sings  it.  That  there  are  impious  Jews  who  pray  bareheaded  and 
sit  in  the  synagogue  side  by  side  with  the  women  has  nothing  to 
do  with  it." 

The  Reformers  did  neither  of  these  things,  but  the  Ghetto  to 
a  man  believed  they  did,  and  it  would  have  been  countenancing 
their  blasphemies  to  pay  a  visit  to  their  synagogues  and  see.  It 
was  an  extraordinary  example  of  a  myth  flourishing  in  the  teeth 
of  the  facts,  and  as  such  should  be  useful  to  historians  sifting 
"the  evidence  of  contemporary  writers." 

The  dispute  thickened .;  the  synagogue  hummed  with  "  Eis  " 
and  "  Ois  "  not  in  concord. 

"  Shah!  "  said  the  President  at  last.  "  Make  an  end,  make  an 
end!" 

"  You  see  he  knows  I'm  right,"  murmured  the  Shalotten 
Shainmos  to  his  circle. 

"  And  if  you  are!  "  burst  forth  the  impeached  Greenberg,  who 
had  by  this  time  thought  of  a  retort.  "And  if  I  do  sing  the 
Passover  Yigdal  instead  of  the  New  Year,  have  I  not  reason,  see- 


THE   SONS   OF  THE    COVENANT.  151 

ing  I  have  7W  bread  in  the  house  ?    With  my  salary  I  have  Pass- 
over all  the  year  round." 

The  Chazan's  sally  made  a  good  impression  on  his  audience  if 
not  on  his  salary.  It  was  felt  that  he  had  a  just  grievance,  and 
the  conversation  was  hastily  shifted  to  the  original  topic. 

"  We  mustn't  forget  the  Maggid  draws  crowds  here  every  Sat- 
urday and  Sunday  afternoon,"  said  Mendel  Hyams.  "Suppose 
he  goes  over  to  a  Chevrah  that  will  pay  him  more! " 

"  No,  he  won't  do  that,"  said  another  of  the  Committee.  "  He 
will  remember  that  we  brought  him  out  of  Poland." 

"  Yes,  but  we  shan't  have  room  for  the  audiences  soon,"  said 
Belcovitch.  "There  are  so  many  outsiders  turned  away  every 
time  that  I  think  we  ought  to  let  half  the  applicants  enjoy  the 
first  two  hours  of  the  sermon  and  the  other  half  the  second  two 
hours." 

"  No,  no,  that  would  be  cruel,"  said  Karlkammer.  "  He  will 
have  to  give  the  Sunday  sermons  at  least  in  a  larger  synagogue. 
My  own  Shool,  the  German,  will  be  glad  to  give  him  facilities." 

"  But  what  if  they  want  to  take  him  altogether  at  a  higher 
salary?"  said  Mendel. 

"  No,  Pm  on  the  Committee,  Pll  see  to  that,"  said  Karlkammer 
reassuringly. 

"  Then  do  you  think  we  shall  tell  him  we  can't  afford  to  give 
him  more?"  asked  Belcovitch. 

There  was  a  murmur  of  assent  with  a  fainter  mingling  of  dis- 
sent. The  motion  that  the  Maggid's  application  be  refused  was 
put  to  the  vote  and  carried  by  a  large  majority. 

It  was  the  fate  of  the  Maggid  to  be  the  one  subject  on  which 
Belcovitch  and  the  Shalotten  Sha7n?nos  agreed.  They  agreed  as 
to  his  transcendent  merits  and  they  agreed  as  to  the  adequacy  of 
his  salary. 

"  But  he's  so  weakly,"  protested  Mendel  Hyams,  who  was  in 
the  minority.     "  He  coughs  blood." 

"  He  ought  to  go  to  a  sunny  place  for  a  week,"  said  Belcovitch 
compassionately. 

"  Yes,  he  must  certainly  have  that,"  said  Karlkammer.  "  Let 
us  add  as  a  rider  that  although  we  cannot  pay  him  more  per 


152  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

week,  he  must  have  a  week's  holiday  in  the  country.     The  Sha- 
kitten  Sham;nos  shall  write  the  letter  to  Rothschild.'" 
y^     Rothschild  was  a  magic  name  in  the  Ghetto  ;  it  stood  next  to 
I     the  Almighty's  as  a  redresser  of  grievances  and  a  friend  of  the 
/     poor,  and  the  Shalotten  Sha?nmos  made  a  large  part  of  his  in- 
come by  writing  letters  to  it.     He  charged  twopence  halfpenny 
I>er  letter,  for  his  English  vocabulary  was  larger  than  any  other 
scribe's  in  the  Ghetto,  and  his  words  were  as  much  longer  than 
theirs  as  his  body.     He  also  filled  up  printed  application  forms 
for  Soup  or  Passover  cakes,  and  had  a  most  artistic  sense  of  the 
proportion   of    orphans   permissible   to   widows   and   a   correct 
instinct  for  the  plausible  duration  of  sicknesses. 

The  Committee  agreed  iiem.  con.  to  the  grant  of  a  seaside 
holiday,  and  the  Shalotten  Shammos  with  a  gratified  feeling  of 
importance  waived  his  twopence  halfpenny.  He  drew  up  a 
letter  forthwith,  not  of  course  in  the  name  of  the  Sons  of  the 
Covenant,  but  in  the  Maggid''s  own. 

He  took  the  magniloquent  sentences  to  the  Maggid  for  signa- 
ture. He  found  the  Maggid  walking  up  and  down  Royal  Street 
waiting  for  the  verdict.  Tlie  Maggid  walked  with  a  stoop  that 
was  almost  a  permanent  bow,  so  that  his  long  black  beard 
reached  well  towards  his  baggy  knees.  His  curved  eagle  nose 
was  grown  thinner,  his  long  coat  shinier,  his  look  more  haggard, 
his  corkscrew  earlocks  were  more  matted,  and  when  he  spoke 
his  voice  was  a  tone  more  raucous.  He  wore  his  high  hat  —  a 
tall  cylinder  that  reminded  one  of  a  weather-beaten  turret. 

The  Shalotten  Shammos  explained  briefly  what  he  had  done. 

"  May  thy  strength  increase! "'  said  the  Maggid  in  the  Hebrew 
formula  of  gratitude. 

"Nay,  thine  is  more  important,"  replied  the  Shalotten  Shain- 
7nos  with  hilarious  heartiness,  and  he  proceeded  to  read  the 
letter  as  they  walked  along  together,  giant  and  doubled-up 
wizard. 

"  But  1  haven't  got  a  wife  and  six  children,''  said  the  Maggid^ 
for  whom  one  or  two  phrases  stood  out  intelligible.  "  My  wife 
is  dead  and  I  never  was  blessed  with  a  Kaddish.'''' 

"  It  sounds  better  so,"  said  the  Shalotten  Shammos  authori- 


THE   SONS   OF   THE    COVENANT.  153 

tatively.  "  Preachers  are  expected  to  have  heavy  families 
dependent  upon  them.     It  would  sound  lies  if  I  told  the  truth. ""^ 

This  was  an  argument  after  the  MaggicVs  own  heart,  but  it 
did  not  quite  convince  him. 

"But  they  will  send  and  make  inquiries,"  he  murmured. 

"  Then  your  family  are  in  Poland  ;  you  send  your  money  over 
there." 

"  That  is  true,"  said  the  Maggid  feebly.  "  But  still  it  likes 
me  not." 

"  You  leave  it  to  me,"  said  the  Shalotten  Shammos  impres- 
sively. "A  shamefaced  man  cannot  learn,  and  a  passionate 
man  cannot  teach.  So  said  Hillel.  When  you  are  in  the  pulpit 
I  listen  to  you ;  when  I  have  my  pen  in  hand,  do  you  listen  to 
me.  As  the  proverb  says,  if  I  were  a  Rabbi  the  town  would 
burn.  But  if  you  were  a  scribe  the  letter  would  burn.  I  don't 
pretend  to  be  a  Maggid,  don't  you  set  up  to  be  a  letter  writer." 

"  Well,  but  do  you  think  it's  honorable?  " 

"Hear,  O  Israel!  "  cried  the  Shalotten  Shammos,  spreading 
out  his  palms  impatiently.  "  Haven't  I  written  letters  for  twenty 
years  ? " 

The  Maggz'd  W2LS  silenced.  He  walked  on  brooding.  "And 
what  is  this  place,  Burnmud,  I  ask  to  go  to?  "  he  inquired. 

"  Bournemouth,"  corrected  the  other.  "  It  is  a  place  on  the 
South  coast  where  all  the  most  aristocratic  consumptives  go." 

"  But  it  must  be  very  dear,"  said  the  poor  Maggid,  affrighted. 

"Dear?  Of  course  it's  dear,"  said  the  Shalotten  Shajnmos 
pompously.  "  But  shall  we  consider  expense  where  your  health 
is  concerned  ? " 

The  Maggid  felt  so  grateful  he  was  almost  ashamed  to  ask 
whether  he  could  eat  kosher  there,  but  the  Shalotten  Shammos, 
who  had  the  air  of  a  tall  encyclopaedia,  set  his  soul  at  rest  on  all 
Doints. 


154  CHILDREN  OF  THE    GHETTO. 


CHAPTER  Xm. 
sugarman's  bar-mitzvah  party. 

The  day  of  Ebenezer  Sugarman's  Ba7'-mitzva/i  duly  arrived. 
All  his  sins  would  henceforth  be  on  his  own  head  and  everybody 
rejoiced  By  the  Friday  evening  so  many  presents  had  arrived 
—  four  breastpins,  two  rings,  six  pocket-knives,  three  sets  of 
Machzorim  or  Festival  Prayer-books,  and  the  like  —  that  his 
father  barred  up  the  door  very  carefully  and  in  the  middle  of 
the  night,  hearing  a  mouse  scampering  across  the  floor,  woke 
up  in  a  cold  sweat  and  threw  open  the  bedroom  window  and 
cried  "Ho!  Buglers!"  But  the  "Buglers"  made  no  sign  of 
being  scared,  everything  was  still  and  nothing  purloined,  so 
Jonathan  took  a  reprimand  from  his  disturbed  wife  and  curled 
himself  up  again  in  bed. 

Sugarman  did  things  in  style  and  through  the  influence  of  a 
client  the  confirmation  ceremony  was  celebrated  in  "  Duke's  Plai- 
zer  Shook ''  Ebenezer,  who  was  tall  and  weak-eyed,  with  lank 
black  hair,  had  a  fine  new  black  cloth  suit  and  a  beautiful  silk 
praying-shawl  with  blue  stripes,  and  a  glittering  watch-chain  and 
a  gold  ring  and  a  nice  new  Prayer-book  with  gilt  edges,  and  all 
the  boys  under  thirteen  made  up  their  minds  to  grow  up  and  be 
responsible  for  their  sins  as  quick  as  possible.  Ebenezer  walked 
up  to  the  Reading  Desk  with  a  dauntless  stride  and  intoned  his 
Portion  of  the  Law  with  no  more  tremor  than  was  necessitated 
by  the  musical  roulades,  and  then  marched  upstairs,  as  bold  as 
brass,  to  his  mother,  who  was  sitting  up  in  the  gallery,  and  wlio 
gave  him  a  loud  smacking  kiss  that  could  be  heard  in  the  four 
corners  of  the  synagogue,  just  as  if  she  were  a  real  lady. 

Then  there  was  the  Bar-mitzvah  breakfast,  at  which  Ebenezer 
delivered  an  English  sermon  and  a  speech,  both  openly  written 
by  the  Shalotten  S/iainwos,  and  everybody  commended  the  boy's 
beautiful  sentiments  and  the  beautiful  language  in  which  they 


SUGARMAN'S  BAR-MITZVAH  PARTY.  155 

were  couched.  Mrs.  Sugarman  forgot  all  the  trouble  Ebenezer 
had  given  her  in  the  face  of  his  assurances  of  respect  and  affec- 
tion and  she  wept  copiously.  Having  only  one  eye  she  could 
not  see  what  her  Jonathan  saw,  and  what.vvas  spoiling  his  enjoy- 
ment of  Ebenezer''s  effusive  gratitude  to  his  dear  parents  for 
having  trained  him  up  in  lofty  principles. 

It  was  chiefly  male  cronies  who  had  been  invited  to  break- 
fast, and  the  table  had  been  decorated  with  biscuits  and  fruit 
and  sweets  not  appertaining  to  the  meal,  but  provided  for  the 
refreshment  of  the  less-favored  visitors  —  such  as  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Hyams  —  who  would  be  dropping  in  during  the  day. 
Now,  nearly  every  one  of  the  guests  had  brought  a  little  boy 
with  him,  each  of  whom  stood  like  a  page  behind  his  father's 
chair. 

Before  starting  on  their  prandial  fried  fish,  these  trencher-men 
took  from  the  dainties  wherewith  the  ornamental  plates  were 
laden  and  gave  thereof  to  their  offspring.  Now  this  was  only 
right  and  proper,  because  it  is  the  .  prerogative  of  children  to 
'■'■  nash''''  on  these  occasions.  But  as  the  meal  progressed,  each 
father  from  time  to  time,  while  talking  briskly  to  his  neighbor. 
allowed  his  hand  to  stray  mechanically  into  the  plates  and  thence 
negligently  backwards  into  the  hand  of  his  infant,  who  stuffed 
the  treasure  into  his  pockets.  Sugarman  fidgeted  about  un- 
easily ;  not  one  surreptitious  seizure  escaped  him,  and  every  one 
pricked  him  like  a  needle.  Soon  his  soul  grew  punctured  like  a 
pin-cushion.  The  Shalotten  Shanunos  was  among  the  worst 
offenders,  and  he  covered  his  back-handed  proceedings  with  a 
ceaseless  flow  of  complimentary  conversation. 

"Excellent  fish,  Mrs.  Sugarman,"  he  said,  dexterously  slipping 
some  almonds  behind  his  chair. 

"What?""  said  Mrs.  Sugarman,  who  was  hard  of  hearing. 

"  First-class  plaice ! "  shouted  the  Shalotten  S/ia^/unos,  negli- 
gently conveying  a  bunch  of  raisins. 

"  So  they  ought  to  be/'  said  Mrs.  Sugarman  in  her  thin  tink- 
ling accents,  "they  were  all  alive  in  the  pan." 

"Ah,  did  they  twitter?"  said  Mr.  Belcovitch,  pricking  up  his 
ears. 


156  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

"  No,''  Bessie  interposed.     "  What  do  you  mean?  " 

"At  home  in  my  town,"  said  Mr.  Belcovitch  impressively,  "a 
fish  made  a  noise  in  the  pan  one  Friday." 

''Well?  and  suppose?"  said  the  Shalotten  Sha??wws,  passing 
a  fig  to  the  rear,  "  the  oil  frizzles." 

"  Nothing  of  the  kind,"  said  Belcovitch  angrily.  "  A  real  liv- 
ing noise.  The  woman  snatched  it  out  of  the  pan  and  ran  with 
it  to  the  Rabbi.  But  he  did  not  know  what  to  do.  Fortunately 
there  was  staying  with  him  for  the  Sabbath  a  travelling  Saint 
from  the  far  city  of  Ridnik,  a  Chasid,  very  skilful  in  plagues  and 
purifications,  and  able  to  make  clean  a  creeping  thing  by  a  hun- 
dred and  fifty  reasons.  He  directed  the  woman  to  wrap  the  fish 
in  a  shroud  and  give  it  honorable  burial  as  quickly  as  possible. 
The  funeral  took  place  the  same  afternoon  and  a  lot  of  people 
went  in  solemn  procession  to  the  woman's  back  garden  and 
buried  it  with  all  seemly  rites,  and  the  knife  with  which  it  had 
been  cut  was  buried  in  the  same  grave,  having  been  defiled  by 
contact  with  the  demon.  One  man  said  it  should  be  burned, 
but  that  was  absurd  because  the  demon  would  be  only  too  glad 
to  find  itself  in  its  native  element,  but  to  prevent  Satan  from 
rebuking  the  woman  any  more  its  mouth  was  stopped  with  fur- 
nace ashes.  There  was  no  time  to  obtain  Palestine  earth,  which 
would  have  completely  crushed  the  demon." 

"  The  woman  must  have  committed  some  Avirah^''  said  Karl- 
kammer. 

'*  A  true  story ! "  said  the  Shalotten  Shanimos,  ironically'. 
"That  tale  has  been  over  Warsaw  this  twelvemonth." 

"  It  occurred  when  I  was  a  boy,"  affirmed  Belcovitch  indig- 
nantly. ''  I  remember  it  quite  well.  Some  people  explained  it 
favorably.  Others  were  of  opinion  that  the  soul  of  the  fish- 
monger had  transmigrated  into  the  fish,  an  opinion  borne  out  by 
the  death  of  the  fishmonger  a  few  days  before.  And  the  Rabbi 
is  still  alive  to  prove  it  —  may  his  light  continue  to  shine  — 
though  they  write  that  he  has  lost  his  memory." 

The  Shalotten  Shammos  sceptically  passed  a  pear  to  his  son. 
Old  Gabriel  Hamburg,  the  scholar,  came  compassionately  to  the 
raconteur's  assistance. 


SUGARMAN'S  BAR-MI TZVAH  PARTY.  157 

^' Rabbi  Solomon  Maimon,"  he  said,  "has  left  it  on  record 
that  he  witnessed  a  similar  funeral  in  Posen.'' 

"'  It  was  well  she  buried  it/'  said  Karlkammer.  "  It  was  an 
atonement  for  a  child,  and  saved  its  life." 

The  Shalotten  Sham?nos  laughed  outright. 

"Ah,  laugh  not,"  said  Mrs.  Belcovitch.  "Or  you  might  laugh 
with  blood.  It  isn't  for  my  own  sins  that  I  was  born  with  ill- 
matched  legs." 

"  I  must  laugh  when  I  hear  of  God's  fools  burying  fish  any- 
where but  in  their  stomach,"  said  the  Shalotten  Shammos,  trans- 
porting a  Brazil  nut  to  the  rear,  where  it  was  quickly  annexed  by 
Solomon  Ansell,  who  had  sneaked  in  uninvited  and  ousted  the 
other  boy  from  his  coign  of  vantage. 

The  conversation  was  becoming  heated ;  Breckeloff  turned 
the  topic. 

"  My  sister  has  married  a  man  who  can't  play  cards,"  he 
said  lugubriously. 

"  How  lucky  for  her,"  answered  several  voices. 

"No,  it's  just  her  black  luck,"  he  rejoined.  "For  he  will 
play." 

There  was  a  burst  of  laughter  and  then  the  company  remem- 
bered that  Breckeloff  was  2i  Badchan  or  jester. 

"Why,  your  sister's  husband  is  a  splendid  player,"  said 
Sugarman  with  a  flash  of  memory,  and  the  company  laughed 
afresh. 

"  Yes,"  said  Breckeloff.  "  But  he  doesn't  give  me  the  chance 
of  losing  to  him  now,  he's  got  such  a  stuck-up  Kotzon.  He 
belongs  to  Duke's  Plaizer  Shool  and  comes  there  very  late, 
and  when  you  ask  him  his  birthplace  he  forgets  he  was  a 
Pullack  and  says  he  comes  from  'behind  Berlin.'" 

These  strokes  of  true  satire  occasioned  more  merriment 
and  were  worth  a  biscuit  to  Solomon  Ansell  vice  the  son  of 
the  Shalotten  Sham7nos. 

Among  the  inoffensive  guests  were  old  Gabriel  Hamburg, 
the  scholar,  and  young  Joseph  Strelitski,  the  student,  who  sat 
together.  On  the  left  of  the  somewhat  seedy  Strelitski  pretty 
Bessie  in  blue  silk  presided  over  the  coffee-pot.     Nobody  knew 


158  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

whence  Bessie  had  stolen  her  good  looks ;  probably  some  re- 
mote ancestress!  Bessie  was  in  every  way  the  most  agreeable 
member  of  the  family,  inheriting  some  of  her  father's  brains, 
but  wisely  going  for  the  rest  of  herself  to  that  remote  ances- 
tress. 

Gabriel  Hamburg  and  Joseph  Strelitski  had  both  had  rela- 
tions with  No.  I  Royal  Street  for  some  time,  yet  they  had 
hardly  exchanged  a  word  and  their  meeting  at  this  breakfast 
table  found  them  as  great  strangers  as  though  they  had  nev-er 
seen  each  other.  Strelitski  came  because  he  boarded  with  the 
Sugarmans,  and  Hamburg  came  because  he  sometimes  con- 
sulted Jonathan  Sugarman  about  a  Talmudical  passage.  Sugar- 
man  was  charged  with  the  oral  traditions  of  a  chain  of  Rabbis, 
like  an  actor  who  knows  all  the  "  business  "  elaborated  by  his 
predecessors,  and  even  a  scientific  scholar  like  Hamburg  found 
him  occasionally  and  fortuitously  illuminating.  Even  so  Karl- 
kammer's  red  hair  was  a  pillar  of  fire  in  the  trackless  wilder- 
ness of  Hebrew  literature.  Gabriel  Hamburg  was  a  mighty 
savant  who  endured  all  things  for  the  love  ot  knowledge 
and  the  sake  of  six  men  in  Europe  who  followed  his  work 
and  profited  by  its  results.  Verily,  fit  audience  though  few. 
But  such  is  the  fate  of  great  scholars  whose  readers  are  sown 
throughout  the  lands  more  sparsely  than  monarchs.  One  by 
one  Hamburg  grappled  with  the  countless  problems  of  Jewish 
literary  history,  settling  dates  and  authors,  disintegrating  the 
Books  of  the  Bible  into  their  constituent  parts,  now  inserting 
a  gap  of  centuries  between  two  halves  of  the  same  chapter, 
now  flashing  the  light  of  new  theories  upon  the  development 
of  Jewish  theology.  He  lived  at  Royal  Street  and  the  British 
Museum,  for  he  spent  most  of  his  time  groping  among  the 
folios  and  manuscripts,  and  had  no  need  for  more  than  the 
little  back  bedroom,  behind  the  Ansells,  stuffed  with  mouldy 
books.  Nobody  (who  was  anybody)  had  heard  of  him  in  Eng- 
land, and  he  worked  on,  unencumbered  by  patronage  or  a 
fall  stomach.  The  Ghetto,  itself,  knew  little  of  him,  for  there 
were  but  few  with  whom  he  found  intercourse  satisfying.  He 
was  not  "orthodox""  in  belief  though  eminently  so  in  practice 


SUGARMAN'S  BAR-MITZVAH  PARTY.  159 

—  which  is  all  the  Ghetto  demands  —  not  from  hypocrisy 
but  from  ancient  prejudice.  Scholarship  had  not  shrivelled 
up  his  humanity,  for  he  had  a  genial  fund  of  humor  and  a 
gentle  play  of  satire  and  loved  his  neighbors  for  their  folly 
and  narrowmindedness.  Unlike  Spinoza,  too,  he  did  not  go 
out  of  his  way  to  inform  them  of  his  heterodox  views,  content 
to  comprehend  the  crowd  rather  than  be  misunderstood  by 
it.  He  knew  that  the  bigger  soul  includes  the  smaller  and 
that  the  smaller  can  never  circumscribe  the  bigger.  Such 
money  as  was  indispensable  for  the  endowment  of  research  he 
earned  by  copying  texts  and  liunting  out  references  for  the 
numerous  scholars  and  clergymen  who  infest  the  Museum  and 
prevent  the  general  reader  from  having  elbow  room.  In  per- 
son he  was  small  and  bent  and  snuify.  Superficially  more 
intelligible,  Joseph  Strelitski  was  really  a  deeper  mystery  than 
Gabriel  Hamburg.  He  was  known  to  be  a  recent  arrival  on 
English  soil,  yet  he  spoke  English  fluently.  He  studied  at  Jews' 
College  by  day  and  was  preparing  for  the  examinations  at 
the  London  University.  None  of  the  other  students  knew 
where  he  lived  nor  a  bit  of  his  past  history.  There  was  a 
vague  idea  afloat  that  he  was  an  only  child  whose  parents 
had  been  hounded  to  penury  and  death  by  Russian  persecu- 
tion, but  who  launched  it  nobody  knew.  His  eyes  were  sad 
and  earnest,  a  curl  of  raven  hair  fell  forwards  on  his  high 
brow ;  his  clothing  was  shabby  and  darned  in  places  by  his 
own  hand.  Beyond  accepting  the  gift  of  education  at  the 
hands  o^  dead  men  he  would  take  no  help.  On  several  dis- 
tinct occasions,  the  magic  name,  Rothschild,  was  appealed  to 
on  his  behalf  by  well-wishers,  and  through  its  avenue  of  almo- 
ners it  responded  with  its  eternal  quenchless  unquestioning 
generosity  to  students.  But  Joseph  Strelitski  always  quietly 
sent  back  these  bounties.  He  made  enough  to  exist  upon  by 
touting  for  a  cigar-firm  in  the  evenings.  In  the  streets  he 
walked  with  tight-pursed  lips,  dreaming  no  one  knew  what. 

And  yet  there  were  times  when  his  tight-pursed  lips  un- 
clenched themselves  and  he  drew  in  great  breaths  even  of 
Ghetto  air  with  the  huge  contentment  of  one  who  has  known 


160  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

suffocation.  "  One  can  breathe  here,"  he  seemed  to  be  saying. 
The  atmosphere,  untainted  by  spies,  venal  officials,  and  jeering 
soldiery,  seemed  fresh  and  sweet.  Here  the  ground  was  stable, 
not  mined  in  all  directions  ;  no  arbitrary  ukase  —  veritable  sword 
of  Damocles —  hung  over  the  head  and  darkened  the  sunshine. 
In  such  a  country,  where  faith  w^as  free  and  action  untrammelled, 
mere  living  was  an  ecstasy  when  remembrance  came  over  one, 
and  so  Joseph  Strelitski  sometimes  threw  back  his  head  and 
breathed  in  liberty.  The  voluptuousness  of  the  sensation  can- 
not be  known  by  born  freemen. 

When  Joseph  Strelitski^s  father  was  sent  to  Siberia,  he  took 
his  nine-year  old  boy  with  him  in  infringement  of  the  law  which 
prohibits  exiles  from  taking  children  above  five  years  of  age. 
The  police  authorities,  however,  raised  no  objection,  and  they 
permitted  Joseph  to  attend  the  public  school  at  Kansk,  Yeniseisk 
province,  where  the  Strelitski  family  resided.  A  year  or  so  after- 
wards the  Yeniseisk  authorities  accorded  the  family  permission  to 
reside  in  Yeniseisk,  and  Joseph,  having  given  proof  of  brilliant 
abilities,  was  placed  in  the  Yeniseisk  gymnasium.  For  nigh 
three  years  the  boy  studied  here,  astonishing  the  gymnasium 
with  his  extraordinary  ability,  when  suddenly  the  Government 
authorities  ordered  the  boy  to  return  at  once  "  to  the  place  where 
he  was  born.'"  In  vain  the  directors  of  the  gymnasium,  won 
over  by  the  poor  boy^s  talent  and  enthusiasm  for  study,  peti- 
tioned the  Government.  The  Yeniseisk  authorities  were  again 
ordered  to  expel  him.  No  respite  was  granted  and  the  thirteen- 
year  old  lad  was  sent  to  Sokolk  in  the  Government  of  Grodno 
at  the  other  extreme  of  European  Russia,  where  he  was  quite 
alone  in  the  world.  Before  he  was  sixteen,  he  escaped  to  Eng- 
land, his  soul  branded  by  terrible  memories,  and  steeled  by 
solitude  to  a  stern  strength. 

At  Sugarman's  he  spoke  little  and  then  mainly  with  the  father 
on  scholastic  points.  After  meals  he  retired  quickly  to  his  busi- 
ness or  his  sleeping-den,  which  was  across  the  road.  Bessie 
loved  Daniel  Hyams,  but  she  was  a  woman  and  Strelitski's  neu- 
trality piqued  her.  Even  to-day  it  is  possible  he  might  not  have 
spoken  to  Gabriel  Hamburg  if  his  other  neighbor  had  not  been 


SUGARMAN'S  BAR-MITZVAH  PARTY.  161 

Bessie.  Gabriel  Hamburg  was  glad  to  talk  to  the  youth,  the 
outlines  of  whose  English  history  were  known  to  him.  Strelitski 
seemed  to  expand  under  the  sunshine  of  a  congenial  spirit ;  he 
answered  Hamburg's  sympathetic  inquiries  about  his  work 
without  reluctance  and  even  made  some  remarks  on  his  own 
initiative. 

And  as  they  spoke,  an  undercurrent  of  pensive  thought  was 
flowing  in  the  old  scholar's  soul  and  his  tones  grew  tenderer  and 
tenderer.  The  echoes  of  Ebenezer's  effusive  speech  were  in  his 
ears  and  the  artificial  notes  rang  strangely  genuine.  All  round 
him  sat  happy  fathers  of  happy  children,  men  who  warmed  their 
hands  at  the  home-fire  of  life,  men  who  lived  while  he  was  think- 
ing. Yet  he,  too,  had  had  his  chance  far  back  in  the  dim  and 
dusty  years,  his  chance  of  love  and  money  with  it.  He  had  let 
it  slip  away  for  poverty  and  learning,  and  only  six  men  in  Europe 
cared  whether  he  lived  or  died.  The  sense  of  his  own  loneliness 
smote  him  with  a  sudden  aching  desolation.  His  gaze  grew  hu- 
mid ;  the  face  of  the  young  student  was  covered  with  a  veil  of 
mist  and  seemed  to  shine  with  the  radiance  of  an  unstained  soul. 
If  he  had  been  as  other  men  he  might  have  had  such  a  son.  At 
this  moment  Gabriel  Hamburg  was  speaking  of  paragoge  in  He- 
brew grammar,  but  his  voice  faltered  and  in  imagination  he  was 
laying  hands  of  paternal  benediction  on  Joseph  Strelitski's  head. 
Swayed  by  an  overmastering  impulse  he  burst  out  at  last. 

"  An  idea  strikes  me!  " 

Strelitski  looked  up  in  silent  interrogation  at  the  old  man's 
agitated  face. 

"  You  live  by  yourself.  I  live  by  myself.  We  are  both  stu- 
dents.    Why  should  we  not  live  together  as  students,  too?" 

A  swift  wave  of  surprise  traversed  Strelitski's  face,  and  his  eyes 
grew  soft.  For  an  instant  the  one  solitary  soul  visibly  yearned 
towards  the  other;  he  hesitated. 

"Do  not  think  I  am  too  old,"  said  the  great  scholar,  trembling 
all  over.  "  I  know  it  is  the  young  who  chum  together,  but  still 
I  am  a  student.  And  you  shall  see  how  lively  and  cheerful  I  will 
be."  He  forced  a  smile  that  hovered  on  tears.  "We  shall  be 
two   rackety   young   students,  every    night   raising  a  thousand 

M 


162  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

devils.  Gaudeainus  igitiirP  He  began  to  hum  in  his  cracked 
hoarse  voice  the  Burschen-lied  of  his  early  days  at  the  Berlin 
Gymnasium. 

But  Strelitski's  face  had  grown  dusky  with  a  gradual  flush  and 
a  deepening  gloom  ;  his  black  eyebrows  were  knit  and  his  lips 
set  together  and  his  eyes  full  of  sullen  ire.  He  suspected  a  snare 
to  assist  him. 

He  shook  his  head.  "  Thank  you,"  he  said  slowly.  ^'  But  I 
prefer  to  live  alone." 

And  he  turned  and  spoke  to  the  astonished  Bessie,  and  so  the 
two  strange  lonely  vessels  that  had  hailed  each  other  across  the 
darkness  drifted  away  and  apart  for  ever  in  the  waste  of  waters. 

But  Jonathan  Sugarman's  eye  was  on  more  tragic  episodes. 
Gradually  the  plates  emptied,  for  the  guests  openly  followed  up 
the  more  substantial  elements  of  the  repast  by  dessert,  more 
devastating  even  than  the  rear  manoeuvres.  At  last  there  was 
nothing  but  an  aching  china  blank.  The  men  looked  round  the 
table  for  something  else  to  "  nash^''  but  everywhere  was  the  same 
depressing  desolation.  Only  in  the  centre  of  the  table  towered 
in  awful  intact  majesty  the  great  Bar-niitsvah  cake,  like  some 
mighty  sphinx  of  stone  surveying  the  ruins  of  empires,  and  the 
least  reverent  shrank  before  its  austere  gaze.  But  at  last  the 
Shalotten  SJianunos  shook  off  his  awe  and  stretched  out  his  hand 
leisurely  towards  the  cake,  as  became  the  master  of  ceremonies. 
But  when  Sugarman  the  Shadchan  beheld  his  hand  moving  like 
a  creeping  flame  forward,  he  sprang  towards  him,  as  the  tigress 
springs  when  the  hunter  threatens  her  cub.  And  speaking  no 
word  he  snatched  the  great  cake  from  under  the  hand  of  the 
spoiler  and  tucked  it  under  his  arm,  in  the  place  where  he  carried 
Nehemiah,  and  sped  therewith  from  the  room.  Then  consterna- 
tion fell  upon  the  scene  till  Solomon  Ansell,  crawling  on  hands 
and  knees  in  search  of  windfalls,  discovered  a  basket  of  apples 
stored  under  the  centre  of  the  table,  and  the  Shalotten  Sham- 
mos's  son  told  his  father  thereof  ere  Solomon  could  do  more  than 
secure  a  few  for  his  brother  and  sisters.  And  the  Shalotten 
Shammos  laughed  joyously,  "  Apples,"  and  dived  under  the  table, 
and  his  long  form  reached  to  the  other  side  and  beyond,  and 


SUGARMAN'S  BAR-MI TZVAH  PARTY.  163 

graybearded  men  echoed  the  joyous  cry  and  scrambled  on  the 
ground  Hke  schoolboys. 

"  Leolom  tikkach  —  always  take,"  quoted  the  Badchan  glee- 
fully. 

When  Sugarman  returned,  radiant,  he  found  his  absence  had 
been  fatal. 

"  Piece  of  fool!  Two-eyed  lump  of  flesh,"  said  Mrs.  Sugarman 
in  a  loud  whisper.  '•  Flying  out  of  the  room  as  if  thou  hadst  the 
ague." 

"  Shall  I  sit  still  like  thee  while  our  home  is  eaten  up  around 
us?"  Sugarman  whispered  back.  "  Couldst  thou  not  look  to 
the  apples?  Plaster  image!  Leaden  fool!  See,  they  have 
emptied  the  basket,  too." 

"Well,  dost  thou  expect  luck  and  blessing  to  crawl  into  it? 
Even  five  shillings^  worth  of  nash  cannot  last  for  ever.  May  ten 
ammunition  wagons  of  black  curses  be  discharged  on  thee  !  " 
replied  Mrs.  Sugarman,  her  one  eye  shooting  fire. 

This  was  the  last  straw  of  insult  added  to  injury.  Sugarman 
was  exasperated  beyond  endurance.  He  forgot  that  he  had  a 
wider  audience  than  his  wife ;  he  lost  all  control  of  himself,  and 
cried  aloud  in  a  frenzy  of  rage,  "What  a  pity  thou  hadst  not  a 
fourth  uncle!  " 

Mrs.  Sugarman  collapsed,  speechless. 

"A  greedy  lot,  marm,"  Sugarman  reported  to  Mrs.  Hyams  on 
the  Monday.  "I  was  very  glad  you  and  your  people  didn't 
come ;  dere  was  noding  left  except  de  prospectuses  of  the  Ham- 
burg lotter^^  vich  I  left  laying  all  about  for  de  guests  to  take. 
Being  Shabbos  I  could  not  give  dem  out." 

"We  were  sorry  not  to  come,  but  neither  Mr.  Hyams  nor  my- 
self felt  well,"  said  the  white-haired  broken-down  old  woman 
with  her  painfully  slow  enunciation.  Her  English  words  rarely 
went  beyond  two  syllables. 

"Ah!"  said  Sugarman.  "But  Pve  come  to  give  you  back 
your  corkscrew." 

"Why,  it's  broken,"  said  Mrs.  Hyams,  as  she  took  it. 

"  So  it  is,  marm,"  he  admitted  readily.  "  But  if  you  taink  dat 
I  ought  to  pay  for  de  damage  you're  mistaken.     If  you  lend  me 


164  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

your  cat  "  —  here  he  began  to  make  the  argumentative  movement 
with  his  thumb,  as  though  scooping  out  imaginary  kosher  cheese 
with  it ;  ''if  you  lend  me  your  cat  to  kill  my  rat,''  his  tones  took 
on  tlie  strange  Talmudic  singsong  —  "and  my  rat  instead  kills 
your  cat,  then  it  is  the  fault  of  your  cat  and  not  the  fault  of  my 
rat/' 

Poor  Mrs.  Hyams  could  not  meet  this  argument.  If  Mendel 
had  been  at  home,  he  might  have  found  a  counter-analogy.  As 
it  was,  Sugarman  re-tucked  Nehemiah  under  his  arm  and  de- 
parted triumphant,  almost  consoled  for  the  raid  on  his  provisions 
by  the  thought  of  money  saved.  In  the  street  he  met  the  Sha- 
lotten  S/tam?nos. 

"  Blessed  art  thou  who  comest,''  said  the  giant,  in  Hebrew ; 
then  relapsing  into  Yiddish  he  cried  :  "  Fve  been  wanting  to  see 
you.  What  did  you  mean  by  telling  your  wife  you  were  sorry 
she  had  not  a  fourth  uncle?'' 

"  Soorka  knew  what  I  meant,"  said  Sugarman  with  a  little 
croak  of  victory.  "  I  have  told  her  the  story  before.  When  the 
A\m\g\\iy  Shade k an  was  making  marriages  in  Heaven,  before  we 
were  yet  born,  the  name  of  my  wife  was  coupled  with  my 
own.  The  spirit  of  her  eldest  uncle  hearing  this  flew  up  to  the 
Angel  who  made  the  proclamation  and  said:  'Angel!  thou  art 
making  a  mistake.  The  man  of  whom  thou  makest  mention 
will  be  of  a  lower  status  than  this  future  niece  of  mine.' 
Said  the  Angel:  'Sh!  It  is  all  right.  She  will  halt  on  one 
leg.'  Came  then  the  spirit  of  her  second  uncle  and  said : 
'  Angel,  what  blazonest  thou  ?  A  niece  of  mine  marry  a  man 
of  such  family?'  Says  the  Angel:  'Sh!  It  is  all  right.  She 
will  be  blind  in  one  eye.'  Came  the  spirit  of  her  third  uncle 
and  said:  'Angel,  hast  thou  not  erred?  Surely  thou  canst 
not  mean  to  marry  my  future  niece  into  such  a  humble  family.' 
Said  the  Angel:  'Sh!  It  is  all  right.  She  will  be  deaf  in 
one  ear.'  Now,  do  you  see?  If  she  had  only  had  a  fourth 
uncle,  she  would  have  been  dumb  into  the  bargain ;  there 
is  only  one  mouth  and  my  life  would  have  been  a  happy  one. 
Before  I  told  Soorka  that  history  she  used  to  throw  up  her 
better  breeding  and  finer  family  to   me.     Even  in  public  she 


THE  HOPE    OF   THE  FAMILY.  165 

would  shed  my  blood.     Now  she  does  not  do  it  even  in  pri- 
vate." 

Sugarman  the  Shadchan  winked,  readjusted  Nehemiah  and 
went  his  way.  • 

CHAPTER   XIV. 

THE   HOPE   OF   THE   FAMILY. 

It  was  a  cold,  bleak  Sunday  afternoon,  and  the  Ansells  were 
spending  it  as  usual.  Little  Sarah  was  with  Mrs.  Simons, 
Rachel  had  gone  to  Victoria  Park  with  a  party  of  school-mates, 
the  grandmother  was  asleep  on  the  bed,  covered  with  one  of 
her  son's  old  coats  (for  there  was  no  fire  in  the  grate),  with  her 
pious  vade  mecum  in  her  hand  ;  Esther  had  prepared  her  lessons 
and  was  reading  a  little  brown  book  at  Dutch  Debby's,  not 
being  able  to  forget  the  London  Journal  sufficiently ;  Solomon 
had  not  prepared  his  and  was  playing  "  rounder ''"'  in  the  street, 
Isaac  being  permitted  to  ''  feed ''''  the  strikers,  in  return  for  a 
prospective  occupation  of  his  new  bed  ;  Moses  Ansell  was  at  S/iool, 
listening  to  a  Lfesped  or  funeral  oration  at  the  German  Syna- 
gogue, preached  by  Reb  Shemuel  over  one  of  the  lights  of  the 
Ghetto,  prematurely  gone  out — no  other  than  the  consumptive 
ALaggid,  who  had  departed  suddenly  for  a  less  fashionable  place 
than  Bournemouth.  ''  He  has  fallen,"  said  the  Reb,  "  not  laden 
with  age,  nor  sighing  for  release  because  the  grasshopper  was  a 
burden.  But  He  who  holds  the  keys  said  :  '  Thou  hast  done  thy 
share  of  the  work ;  it  is  not  thine  to  complete  it.  It  was  in  thy 
heart  to  serve  Me,  from  Me  thou  shalt  receive  thy  reward.'" 

And  all  the  perspiring  crowd  in  the  black-draped  hall  shook 
with  grief,  and  thousands  of  working  men  followed  the  body, 
weeping,  to  the  grave,  walking  all  the  way  to  the  great  cemetery 
in  Bow. 

A  slim,  black-haired,  handsome  lad  of  about  twelve,  dressed  in 
a  neat  black  suit,  with  a  shining  white  Eton  collar,  stumbled  up 
the  dark  stairs  of  No.  i  Royal  Street,  with  an  air  of  unfamiliarity 
and  disgust.     At  Dutch  Debby's  door  he  was  delayed  by  a  brief 


166  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

altercation  with  Bobby.  He  burst  open  the  door  of  the  Ansell 
apartment  without  knocking,  though  he  took  off  his  hat  invol- 
untarily as  he  entered  Then  he  stood  still  with  an  air  of  dis- 
appointment.    The  room  seemed  empty. 

"What  dost  thou  want,  Esther?  "  murmured  the  grandmother 
rousing  herself  sleepily. 

The  boy  looked  towards  the  bed  with  a  start  He  could  not 
make  out  what  the  grandmother  was  saying.  It  was  four  years 
since  he  had  heard  Yiddish  spoken,  and  he  had  almost  forgotten 
the  existence  of  the  dialect  The  room,  too,  seemed  chill  and 
alien,  —  so  unspeakably  poverty-stricken. 

"Oh,  how  are  you,  grandmother?"  he  said,  going  up  to  her 
and  kissing  her  perfunctorily.     "  Where's  everybody?" 

"Art  thou  Benjamin?"  said  the  grandmother,  her  stern, 
wrinkled  face  shadowed  with  surprise  and  doubt. 

Benjamin  guessed  what  she  was  asking  and  nodded. 

"But  how  richly  they  have  dressed  thee!  Alas,  I  suppose 
they  have  taken  away  thy  Judaism  instead.  For  four  whole 
years  —  is  it  not — thou  hast  been  with  English  folk.  Woe! 
Woe!  If  thy  father  had  married  a  pious  woman,  she  would 
have  been  living  still  and  thou  wouldst  have  been  able  to  live 
happily  in  our  midst  instead  of  being  exiled  among  strangers, 
who  feed  thy  body  and  starve  thy  soul.  If  thy  father  had  left 
me  in  Poland,  I  should  have  died  happy  and  my  old  eyes  would 
never  have  seen  the  sorrow.  Unbutton  thy  waistcoat,  let  me 
see  if  thou  wearest  the  '  four-corners  '  at  least."  Of  this  harangue, 
poured  forth  at  the  rate  natural  to  thoughts  running  ever  in  the 
same  groove,  Benjamin  understood  but  a  word  here  and  there. 
For  four  years  he  had  read  and  read  and  read  English  books, 
absorbed  himself  in  English  composition,  heard  nothing  but 
English  spoken  about  him.  Nay,  he  had  even  deliberately  put 
the  jargon  out  of  his  mind  at  the  commencement  as  something 
degrading  and  humiliating.  Now  it  stiuck  vague  notes  of  old 
outgrown  associations  but  called  up  no  definite  images. 

"  Where's  Esther? ' "  he  said. 

"Esther,"  grumbled  the  grandmother,  catching  the  name. 
"  Esther  is  with  Dutch  Debby.     She's  always  with  her.     Dutch 


THE  HOPE    OF   THE  FAMILY.  167 

Debby  pretends  to  love  her  like  a  mother  —  and  why?  Because 
she  wants  to  be  her  mother.  She  aims  at  marrying  my  Moses. 
But  not  for  us.  This  time  we  shall  marry  the  woman  I  select. 
No  person  like  that  who  knows  as  mueh  about  Judaism  as  the 
cow  of  Sunday,  nor  like  Mrs.  Simons,  who  coddles  our  little 
Sarah  because  she  thinks  my  Moses  will  have  her.  It's  plain 
as  the  eye  in  her  head  what  she  wants.  But  the  Widow  Finkel- 
stein  is  the  woman  we're  going  to  marry.  She  is  a  true  Jewess, 
shuts  up  her  shop  the  moment  Shabbos  comes  in,  not  works 
right  into  the  Sabbath  like  so  many,  and  goes  to  Shool  even  on 
Friday  nights.  Look  how  she  brought  up  her  Avromkely,  who 
intoned  the  whole  Portion  of  the  Law  and  the  Prophets  in 
Shool  before  he  was  six  years  old.  Besides  she  has  money  and 
has  cast  eyes  upon  him." 

The  boy,  seeing  conversation  was  hopeless,  murmured  some- 
thing inarticulate  and  ran  down  the  stairs  to  find  some  traces  of 
the  intelligible  members  of  his  family.  Happily  Bobby,  remem- 
bering their  former  altercation,  and  determining  to  have  the  last 
word,  barred  Benjamin's  path  with  such  pertinacity  that  Esther 
came  out  to  quiet  him  and  leapt  into  her  brother's  arms  with 
a  great  cry  of  joy,  dropping  the  book  she  held  full  on  Bobby's 
nose. 

"O  Benjy — Is  it  really  you?  Oh,  I  am  so  glad.  I  am  so 
glad.  I  knew  you  would  come  some  day.  O  Benjy!  Bobby, 
you  bad  dog,  this  is  Benjy,  my  brother.  Debby,  I'm  going  up- 
stairs.    Benjamin's  come  back.     Benjamin's  come  back." 

"  All  right,  dear,"  Debby  called  out.  "  Let  me  have  a  look  at 
him  soon.  Send  me  in  Bobby  if  you're  going  away."  The  words 
ended  in  a  cough. 

Esther  hurriedly  drove  in  Bobby,  and  then  half  led,  half 
dragged  Benjamin  upstairs.  The  grandmother  had  fallen  asleep 
again  and  was  snoring  peacefully. 

"  Speak  low,  Benjy,"  said  Esther.     "  Grandmother's  asleep." 

"All  right,  Esther.  I,  don't  want  to  wake  her,  I'm  sure.  I 
was  up  here  just  now,  and  couldn't  make  out  a  word  she  was 
jabbering." 

"  I  know.     She's  losing  all  her  teeth,  poor  thing." 


168  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

"No,  it  isn't  that.  She  speaks  that  beastly  Yiddish  —  I  made 
sure  she'd  have  learned  English  by  this  time.  I  hope  you  don't 
speak  it,  Esther." 

"  I  must,  Benjy.  You  see  father  and  grandmother  never  speak 
anything  else  at  home,  and  only  know  a  few  words  of  English. 
But  I  don't  let  the  children  speak  it  except  to  them.  You  should 
hear  little  Sarah  speak  English.  It's  beautiful.  Only  when  she 
cries  she  says  '■  Woe  is  me  '  in  Yiddish.  I  have  had  to  slap  her 
for  it  —  but  that  makes  her  cry  'Woe  is  me  '  all  the  more.  Oh, 
how  nice  you  look,  Benjy,  with  your  white  collar,  just  like  the 
pictures  of  little  Lord  Launceston  in  the  Fourth  Standard  Reader. 
I  wish  I  could  show  you  to  the  girls!  Oh,  my,  what'll  Solomon 
say  when  he  sees  you!  He's  always  wearing  his  corduroys  away 
at  the  knees." 

"Butw^here  is  everybody?  And  w^hy  is  there  no  fire?"  said 
Benjamin  impatiently.     "  It's  beastly  cold." 

"Father  hopes  to  get  a  bread,  coal  and  meat  ticket  to-morrow, 
dear." 

"Well,  this  is  a  pretty  welcome  for  a  fellow!"  grumbled 
Benjamin. 

"I'm  so  sorry,  Benjy!  If  I'd  only  known  you  were  coming  I 
misfht  have  borrowed  some  coals  from  Mrs.  Belcovitch.  But 
just  stamp  your  feet  a  little  if  they  freeze.  No,  do  it  outside  the 
door;  grandmother's  asleep.  Why  didn't  you  write  to  me  you 
were  coming?" 

"I  didn't  know.  Old  Four-Eyes  —  that's  one  of  our  teachers 
—  was  going  up  to  London  this  afternoon,  and  he  wanted  a  boy 
to  carry  some  parcels,  and  as  Tm  the  best  boy  in  my  class  he  let 
me  come.  He  let  me  run  up  and  see  you  all,  and  I'm  to  meet 
him  at  London  Bridge  Station  at  seven  o'clock.  You're  not 
much  altered,  Esther." 

"Ain't  I?"  she  said,  with  a  little  pathetic  smile.  "Ain't  I 
bigger?  " 

"Not  four  years  bigger.  For  a  moment  I  could  fancy  I'd 
never  been  away.  How  the  years  slip  by!  I  shall  be  Bar- 
initzvah  soon." 

'^  Ves,  and  now  I've  got  you  again  I've  so  much  to  say  I  don't 


THE  HOPE    OF  THE  FAMILY.  169 

know  where  to  begin.  That  time  father  went  to  see  you  I 
couldn't  get  much  out  of  him  about  you,  and  your  own  letters 
have  been  so  few." 

"  A  letter  costs  a  penny,  Esther.  Where  am  I  to  get  pennies 
from?" 

"  I  know,  dear.  I  know  you  would  have  liked  to  write.  But 
now  you  shall  tell  me  everything.  Have  you  missed  us  very 
much  ?  " 

"  No,  I  don't  think  so,"  said  Benjamin. 

"Oh,  not  at  all?  "  asked  Esther  in  disappointed  tones. 

"  Yes,  I  missed  you^  Esther,  at  first,"  he  said,  soothingly. 
"  But  there's  such  a  lot  to  do  and  to  think  about.  It's  a  new 
life." 

"And  have  you  been  happy,  Benjy?  " 

"Oh  yes.  Quite.  _[ust  think!  Regular  meals,  with  oranges 
and  sweets  and  entertainments  every  now  and  then,  a  bed  all  to 
yourself,  good  fires,  a  mansion  with  a  noble  staircase  and  hall,  a 
field  to  play  in,  with  balls  and  toys  —  " 

"A  field!"  echoed  Esther.  "Why  it  must  be  like  going  to 
Greenwich  every  day." 

"  Oh,  better  than  Greenwich  where  they  take  you  girls  for  a 
measly  day's  holiday  once  a  year." 

"  Better  than  the  Crystal  Palace,  where  they  take  the  boys  ?  " 

"  Why,  the  Crystal  Palace  is  quite  near.  We  can  see  the  fire- 
works every  Thursday  night  in  the  season." 

Esther's  eyes  opened  wider.     "  And  have  you  been  inside  ?  " 

"  Lots  of  times." 

"Do  you  remember  the  time  you  didn't  go?"  Esther  said 
softly. 

"A  fellow  doesn't  forget  that  sort  of  thing,"  he  grumbled.  "  I 
so  wanted  to  go  —  I  had  heard  such  a  lot  about  it  from  the  boys 
who  had  been.  When  the  day  of  the  excursion  came  my  Shabbos 
coat  was  in  pawn,  wasn't  it  ? " 

"Yes,"  said  Esther,  her  eyes  growing  humid.  "I  was  so  sorry 
for  you,  dear.  You  didn't  want  to  go  in  your  corduroy  coat  and 
let  the  boys  know  you  didn't  have  a  best  coat.  It  was  quite 
right,  Benjy." 


170  CHILDREN  OF    THE   GHETTO. 

"  I  remember  mother  gave  me  a  treat  instead/'  said  Benjamin 
with  a  comic  grimace.  "  She  took  me  round  to  Zachariah  Square 
and  let  me  play  there  while  she  was  scrubbing  Malka's  floor.  I 
think  Milly  gave  me  a  penny,  and  I  remember  Leah  let  me  take 
a  couple  of  licks  from  a  glass  of  ice  cream  she  was  eating  on 
the  Ruins.  It  was  a  hot  day  —  I  shall  never  forget  that  ice 
cream.  But  fancy  parents  pawning  a  chap's  only  decent  coat." 
He  smoothed  his  well-brushed  jacket  complacently. 

"  Yes,  but  don't  you  remember  mother  took  it  out  the  very 
next  morning  before  school  with  the  money  she  earnt  at 
Malka's." 

"  But  what  was  the  use  of  that?  I  put  it  on  of  course  when  I 
went  to  school  and  told  the  teacher  I  was  ill  the  day  before,  just 
to  show  the  boys  I  was  telling  the  truth.  But  it  was  too  late  to 
take  me  to  the  Palace." 

"  Ah,  but  it  came  in  handy  —  don't  you  remember,  Benjy, 
how  one  of  the  Great  Ladies  died  suddenly  the  next  week! " 

''Oh  yes!  Yoicks!  Tallyho!"  cried  Benjamin,  with  sudden 
excitement.  "  We  went  down  on  hired  omnibuses  to  the  ceme- 
tery ever  so  far  into  the  country,  six  of  the  best  boys  in  each 
class,  and  I  was  on  the  box  seat  next  to  the  driver,  and  I  thought 
of  the  old  mail-coach  days  and  looked  out  for  highwaymen.  We 
stood  along  the  path  in  the  cemetery  and  the  sun  was  shining 
and  the  grass  was  so  green  and  there  were  such  lovely  flowers 
on  the  coflin  when  it  came  past  with  the  gentlemen  crying  behind 
it  and  then  we  had  lemonade  and  cakes  on  the  way  back.  Oh,  it 
was  just  beautiful!  I  went  to  two  other  funerals  after  that,  but 
that  was  the  one  I  enjoyed  most.  Yes,  that  coat  did  come  in 
useful  after  all  for  a  day  in  the  country." 

Benjamin  evidently  did  not  think  of  his  own  mother's  inter- 
ment as  a  funeral.  Esther  did  and  she  changed  the  subject 
quickly. 

"  Well,  tell  me  more  about  your  place." 

''  Well,  it's  like  going  to  funerals  every  day.  It's  all  country 
all  round  about,  with  trees  and  flowers  and  birds.  Why,  I've 
helped  to  make  hay  in  the  autumn." 

Esther  drew  a  sigh  of  ecstasy.     •"  It's  like  a  book,"  she  said. 


THE  HOPE    OF   THE  FAMILY.  171 

"Books!''  he  said.  "We've  got  hundreds  and  hundreds,  a 
whole  hbrary  —  Dickens,  Mayne  Reid,  George  EHot,  Captain 
Marryat,  Thackeray — I've  read  them  all." 

"Oh,  Benjy!  "  said  Esther,  clasping  her  hands  in  admiration, 
both  of  the  librar}'  and  her  brother.     "  I  wish  I  were  you." 

"  Well,  you  could  be  me  easily  enough." 

"  How?  "  said  Esther,  eagerly. 

"  Why,  we  have  a  girls'  department,  too.  You're  an  orphan 
as  much  as  me.     You  get  father  to  enter  you  as  a  candidate." 

"Oh,  how  could  I,  Benjy?"  said  Esther,  her  face  falling. 
"  What  would  become  of  Solomon  and  Ikey  and  little  Sarah?  " 

"They've  got  a  father,  haven't  they?  and  a  grandmother?" 

"Father  can't  do  washing  and  cooking,  you  silly  boy!  And 
grandmother's  too  old." 

"Well,  I  call  it  a  beastly  shame.  Why  can't  father  earn  a 
living  and  give  out  the  washing?  He  never  has  a  penny  to  bless 
himself  with." 

"It  isn't  his  fault,  Benjy.  He  tries  hard.  I'm  sure  he  often 
grieves  that  he's  so  poor  that  he  can't  afford  the  railway  fare  to 
visit  you  on  visiting  days.  That  time  he  did  go  he  only  got  the 
money  by  selling  a  work-box  I  had  for  a  prize.  But  he  often 
speaks  about  you." 

"Well,  I  don't  grumble  at  his  not  coming,"  said  Benjamin. 
"  I  forgive  him  that  because  you  know  he's  not  very  presentable, 
is  he,  Esther? " 

Esther  was  silent.  "Oh,  well,  ev'erybody  knows  he's  poor. 
They  don't  expect  father  to  be  a  gentleman," 

"  Yes,  but  he  might  look  decent.  Does  he  still  wear  those 
two  beastly  little  curls  at  the  side  of  his  head  ?  Oh,  I  did  hate  it 
when  I  was  at  school  here,  and  he  used  to  come  to  see  the  mas- 
ter about  something.  Some  of  the  boys  had  such  respectable 
fathers,  it  was  quite  a  pleasure  to  see  them  come  in  and  overawe 
the  teacher.  Mother  used  to  be  as  bad,  coming  in  with  a  shawl 
over  her  head." 

"Yes,  Benjy,  but  she  used  to  bring  us  in  bread  and  butter 
when  there  had  been  none  in  the  house  at  breakfast-time. 
Don't  you  remember,  Benjy?" 


172  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

"Oh,  yes,  I  remember.  We\'e  been  through  some  beastly 
bad  times,  haven't  we,  Esther?  All  I  say  is  you  wouldn't  like 
father  coming  in  before  all  the  girls  in  your  class,  would  you, 


now 


?'^ 


Esther  blushed.  "  There  is  no  occasion  for  him  to  come,"" 
she  said  evasively. 

"  Well,  I  know  what  I  shall  do  ! "  said  Benjamin  decisively ; 
"  Fm  going  to  be  a  very  rich  man  —  " 

"Are  you,  Benjy?"  inquired  Esther. 

"Yes,  of  course.  Fm  going  to  write  books  —  like  Dickens 
and  those  fellows.  Dickens  made  a  pile  of  money,  just  by  writ- 
ing down  plain  every-day  things  going  on  around." 

"  But  you  can't  write !  " 

Benjamin  laughed  a  superior  laugh.  "Oh,  can't  I?  What 
about  Our  Own,  eh?" 

"What's  that?" 

"That's  our  journal.  I  edit  it.  Didn't  I  tell  you  about  it? 
Yes,  I'm  running  a  story  through  it,  called  '  The  Soldier's 
Bride,'  all  about  life  in  Afghanistan." 

"Oh,  where  could  I  get  a  number?" 

"You  can't  get  a  number.  It  ain't  printed,  stupid.  It's  all 
copied  by  hand,  and  we've  only  got  a  few  copies.  If  you  came 
down,  you  could  see  it." 

"  Yes,  but  I  can't  come  down,"  said  Esther,  with  tears  in  her 
eyes. 

"  Well,  never  mind.  You'll  see  it  some  day.  Well,  what 
was  I  telling  you?  Oh,  yes!  About  my  prospects.  You  see, 
I'm  going  in  for  a  scholarship  in  a  few  months,  and  everybody, 
says  I  shall  get  it.  Then,  perhaps  I  might  go  to  a  higher  school, 
perhaps  to  Oxford  or  Cambridge  ! " 

"And  row  in  the  boat-race!"  said  Esther,  flushing  with 
excitement. 

"No,  bother  the  boat-race.  I'm  going  in  for  Latin  and 
Greek.  I've  begun  to  learn  French  already.  So  I  shall  know 
three  foreign  languages." 

"Four!"  said  Esther,  "you  forget  Hebrew  !" 

"Oh,  of  course,  Hebrew.     I  don't  reckon  Hebrew.     Every- 


THE  HOPE    OF   THE  FAMILY,  173 

body  knows  Hebrew.  Hebrew's  no  good  to  any  one.  What 
I  want  is  something  that'll  get  me  on  in  the  world  and  enable 
me  to  write  my  books.'' 

"But  Dickens  —  did  he  know  Latin  or  Greek?"  asked  Esther. 

"  No,  he  didn't,"  said  Benjamin  proudly.  '•''  That's  just  where 
I  shall  have  the  pull  of  him.  Well,  when  I've  got  rich  I  shall 
buy  father  a  new  suit  of  clothes  and  a  high  hat  —  it  is  so  beastly 
cold  here,  Esther,  just  feel  my  hands,  like  ice! — and  I  shall 
make  him  live  with  grandmother  in  a  decent  room,  and  give 
him  an  allowance  so  that  he  can  study  beastly  big  books  all 
day  long  —  does  he  still  take  a  week  to  read  a  page?  And 
Sarah  and  Isaac  and  Rachel  shall  go  to  a  proper  boarding 
school,  and  Solomon  —  how  old  will  he  be  then?  " 

Esther  looked  puzzled.  '■'■  Oh,  but  suppose  it  takes  you  ten 
years  getting  famous!     Solomon  will  be  nearly  twenty." 

"It  can't  take  me  ten  years.  But  never  mind!  We  shall  see 
what  is  to  be  done  with  Solomon  when  the  time  comes.  As  for 
you  —  " 

"Well,  Benjy,"  she  said,  for  his  imagination  was  breaking 
down. 

"I'll  give  you  a  dowry  and  you'll  get  married.  See!"  he 
concluded  triumphantly. 

"  Oh,  but  suppose  I  shan't  want  to  get  married  ?  " 

"Nonsense  —  every  girl  wants  to  get  married.  I  overheard 
Old  Four-Eyes  say  all  the  teachers  in  the  girls'  department  were 
dying  to  marry  him.  I've  got  several  sweethearts  already,  and  I 
dare  say  you  have."     He  looked  at  her  quizzingly. 

"  No,  dear,"  she  said  earnestly.  "  There's  only  Levi  Jacobs, 
Reb  Shemuel's  son,  who's  been  coming  round  sometimes  to  play 
with  Solomon,  and  brings  me  almond-rock.  But  I  don't  care  for 
him  —  at  least  not  in  that  way.     Besides,  he's  quite  above  us." 

'■''Oh,  is  he?     Wait  till  I  write  my  novels." 

"  I  wish  you'd  write  them  now.  Because  then  I  should  have 
something  to  read  —  Oh !  " 

"What's  the  matter?  " 

"  I've  lost  my  book.  What  have  I  done  with  my  little  brown 
book?" 


174  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

"Didn't  you  drop  it  on  that  beastly  dog?" 

"  Oh,  did  I?  People'!!  tread  on  it  on  the  stairs.  Oh  dear! 
ri!  run  down  and  get  it.  But  don't  call  Bobby  beastly, 
please." 

"  Why  not?     Dogs  are  beasts,  aren't  they?" 

Esther  puzzled  over  the  retort  as  she  flew  downstairs,  but 
could  find  no  reply.  She  found  the  book,  however,  and  that 
consoled  her. 

"  What  have  you  got  hold  of  ?  "  replied  Benjamin,  when  she 
returned. 

"Oh,  nothing!     It  wouldn't  interest  you." 

"All  books  interest  me,"  announced  Benjamin  with  dignity. 

Esther  reluctantly  gave  him  the  book.  He  turned  over  the 
pages  carelessly,  then  his  face  grew  serious  and  astonished. 

"  Esther!  "  he  said,  "  how  did  you  come  by  this?  " 

"  One  of  the  girls  gave  it  me  in  exchange  for  a  stick  of  slate 
pencil.  She  said  she  got  it  from  the  missionaries  —  she  went  to 
their  night-school  for  a  lark  and  they  gave  her  it  and  a  pair  of 
boots  as  well." 

"And  you  have  been  reading  it?'^ 

"  Yes,  Benjy,"  said  Esther  meekly. 

"  You  naughty  girl  I  Don't  you  know  the  New  Testament  is 
a  wicked  book?  Look  here!  There's  the  word  'Christ'  on 
nearly  every  page,  and  the  word  '  Jesus '  on  every  other.  And 
you  liaven't  even  scratched  them  out!  Oh,  if  any  one  was  to 
catch  you  reading  this  book !  " 

"  I  don't  read  it  in  school  hours,"  said  the  little  girl  depre- 
catingly. 

"  But  you  have  no  business  to  read  it  at  all ! " 

"Why  not?  "  she  said  doggedly.  "I  like  it.  It  seems  just  as 
interesting  as  the  Old  Testament,  and  there  are  more  miracles 
to  the  page." 

"You  wicked  girl!"  said  her  brother,  overwhelmed  by  her 
audacity.     "  Surely  you  know  that  all  these  miracles  were  false  ?  " 

"  Why  were  they  false  ?  "  persisted  Esther. 

"Because  miracles  left  off  after  the  Old  Testament!  There 
are  no  miracles  now-a-days,  are  there  ?  " 


THE  HOPE    OF   THE  FAMILY.  175 

"  No,"  admitted  Esther. 

"Well,  then,"  he  said  triumphantly,  "if  miracles  had  gone 
overlapping  into  New  Testament  times  we  might  just  as  well 
expect  to  have  them  now." 

"  But  why  shouldn't  we  have  them  now  ?  " 

"  Esther,  Fm  surprised  at  you.  I  should  like  to  set  Old  Four- 
Eyes  on  to  you.  He'd  soon  tell  you  why.  Religion  all  hap- 
pened in  the  past.  God  couldn't  be  always  talking  to  His 
creatures." 

"  I  wish  I'd  lived  in  the  past,  when  Religion  was  happening," 
said  Esther  ruefully,  "  But  why  do  Christians  all  reverence  this 
book?  Fm  sure  there  are  many  more  millions  of  them  than  of 
Jews!" 

"  Of  course  there  are,  Esther.  Good  things  are  scarce.  We 
are  so  few  because  we  are  God's  chosen  people." 

"  But  why  do  I  feel  good  when  I  read  what  Jesus  said?" 

"  Because  you  are  so  bad,"  he  answered,  in  a  shocked  tone. 
"  Here,  give  me  the  book,  Fll  burn  it." 

"No,  no!  "  said  Esther.     "  Besides  there's  no  fire." 

"  No,  hang  it,"  he  said,  rubbing  his  hands.  "Well,  it'll  never 
do  if  you  have  to  fall  back  on  this  sort  of  thing.  Fll  tell  you 
what  Fll  do.     Fll  send  you  Our  Own.'''' 

"  Oh,  will  you,  Benjy  ?  That  is  good  of  you,"  she  said  joyfully, 
and  was  kissing  him  when  Solomon  and  Isaac  came  romping  in 
and  woke  up  the  grandmother. 

"  How  are  you,  Solomon  ?  "  said  Benjamin.  "  How  are  you, 
my  little  man,"  he  added,  patting  Isaac  on  his  curly  head.  Sol- 
omon was  overawed  for  a  moment.  Then  he  said,  "  Hullo, 
Benjy,  have  you  got  any  spare  buttons  ? " 

But  Isaac  was  utterly  ignorant  who  the  stranger  could  be  and 
hung  back  with  his  finger  in  his  mouth. 

"  That's  your  brother  Benjamin,  Ikey,"  said  Solomon. 

"  Don't  want  no  more  brovers,"  said  Ikey. 

"  Oh,  but  I  was  here  before  you,"  said  Benjamin  laughing. 

"Does  oor  birfday  come  before  mine,  then?" 

"  Yes,  if  I  remember." 

Isaac  looked  tauntingly  at  the  door.     "  See !  "  he  cried  to  the 


176  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

absent  Sarah.  Then  turning  graciously  to  Benjamin  he  said, 
"  I  thant  kiss  oo,  but  FU  lat  oo  teep  in  my  new  bed." 

''  But  you  must  kiss  him,"  said  Esther,  and  saw  that  he  did 
it  before  she  left  the  room  to  fetch  little  Sarah  from  Mrs. 
Simons. 

When  she  came  back  Solomon  was  letting  Benjamin  inspect 
his  Plevna  peep-show  without  charge  and  Moses  Ansell  was 
back,  too.  His  eyes  were  red  with  weeping,  but  that  was  on 
account  of  the  Maggid.  His  nose  was  blue  with  the  chill  of  the 
cemetery. 

"He  was  a  great  man,"  he  was  saying  to  the  grandmother. 
"He  could  lecture  for  four  hours  together  on  any  text  and  he 
would  always  manage  to  get  back  to  the  text  before  the  end. 
Such  exegetics,  such  homiletics!  He  was  greater  than  the  Em- 
peror of  Russia.     Woe!     Woe!" 

"Woe!  Woe!"  echoed  the  grandmother.  "If  women  were 
allowed  to  go  to  funerals,  I  would  gladly  have  followed  him. 
Why  did  he  come  to  England?  In  Poland  he  would  still  have 
been  alive.     And  why  did  I  come  to  England?     Woe!     Woe!" 

Her  head  dropped  back  on  the  pillow  and  her  sighs  passed 
gently  into  snores.  Moses  turned  again  to  his  eldest  born,  feel- 
ing that  he  was  secondary  in  importance  only  to  the  Maggid, 
and  proud  at  heart  of  his  genteel  English  appearance. 

"  Well,  you'll  soon  be  Baf'-7nitzvah,  Benjamin,"  he  said,  with 
clumsy  geniality  blent  with  respect,  as  he  patted  his  boy's  cheeks 
with  his  discolored  fingers. 

Benjamin  caught  the  last  two  words  and  nodded  his  head. 

"  And  then  you'll  be  coming  back  to  us.  I  suppose  they  will 
apprentice  you  to  something." 

"What  does  he  say,  Esther?"  asked  Benjamin,  impatiently. 

Esther  interpreted. 

"Apprentice  me  to  something!"  he  repeated,  disgusted. 
"Father's  ideas  are  so  beastly  humble.  He  would  like  every- 
body to  dance  on  him.  Why  he'd  be  content  to  see  me  a  cigar- 
maker  or  a  presser.  Tell  him  I'm  not  coming  home,  that  I'm 
going  to  win  a  scholarship  and  to  go  to  the  University." 

Moses's  eyes  dilated   with  pride.     "  Ah,  you  will  become  a 


THE  HOPE    OF   THE  FAMILY.  177 

Rav,"  he  said,  and  lifted  up  his  boy's  chin  and  looked  lovingly 
into  the  handsome  face. 

"  What's  that  about  a  Rav,  Esther?  ''  said  Benjamin.  "  Does 
he  want  me  to  become  a  Rabbi  —  Ugh!  Tell  him  I'm  going 
to  write  books." 

"My  blessed  boy!  A  good  commentary  on  the  Song  of  Songs 
is  much  needed.     Perhaps  you  will  begin  by  writing  that." 

"  Oh,  it's  no  use  talking  to  him,  Esther.  Let  him  be.  Why 
can't  he  speak  English  ?  " 

"  He  can —  but  you'd  understand  even  less,"  said  Esther  with 
a  sad  smile. 

"Well,  all  I  say  is  it's  a  beastly  disgrace.  Look  at  the  years 
he's  been  in  England — just  as  long  as  we  have."  Then  the 
humor  of  the  remark  dawned  upon  him  and  he  laughed.  "  I 
suppose  he's  out  of  work,  as  usual,"  he  added. 

Moses's  ears  pricked  up  at  the  syllables  "  out-of-work,"  which 
to  him  was  a  single  word  of  baneful  meaning. 

"Yes,"  he  said  in  Yiddish.  "  But  if  I  only  had  a  few  pounds 
to  start  with  I  could  work  up  a  splendid  business." 

"Wait!  He  shall  have  a  business,"  said  Benjamin  when 
Esther  interpreted. 

"  Don't  listen  to  him,"  said  Esther.  "  The  Board  of  Guardians 
has  started  him  again  and  again.  But  he  likes  to  think  he  is  a 
man  of  business." 

Meantime  Isaac  had  been  busy  explaining  Benjamin  to  Sarah, 
nnd  pointing  out  the  remarkable  confirmation  of  his  own  views 
as  to  birthdays.  This  will  account  for  Esther's  next  remark 
being,  "  Now,  dears,  no  fighting  to-day.  We  must  celebrate 
Benjy's  return.  We  ought  to  kill  a  fatted  calf — like  the  man 
in  the  Bible." 

"What  are  you  talking  about,  Esther?"  said  Benjamin  suspi- 
ciously. 

"I'm  so  sorry,  nothing,  only  foolishness,"  said  Esther.  "We 
really  must  do  something  to  make  a  holiday  of  the  occasion. 
Oh,  I  know ;  we'll  have  tea  before  you  go,  instead  of  waiting  till 
supper-time.  Perhaps  Rachel'll  be  back  from  the  Park.  You 
haven't  seen  her  yet." 

N 


178  CHILDREN  OF  THE   GHETTO. 

"  No,  I  can't  stay/^  said  Benjy.  "  It'll  take  me  three-quarters 
of  an  hour  getting  to  the  station.  And  you've  got  no  fire  to 
make  tea  with  either." 

"Nonsense,  Benjy.  You  seem  to  have  forgotten  everything; 
weVe  got  a  loaf  and  a  penn'uth  of  tea  in  the  cupboard.  Solo- 
mon, fetch  a  farthing's  worth  of  boiling  water  from  the  Widow 
Finkelstein." 

At  the  words  "  widow  Finkelstein/'  the  grandmother  awoke 
and  sat  up. 

"No,  I'm  too  tired,"  said  Solomon.     "  Isaac  can  go." 

"  No,"  said  Isaac.     "  Let  Estie  go." 

Esther  took  a  jug  and  went  to  the  door, 

"  Meshe,"  said  the  grandmother.  "  Go  thou  to  the  Widow 
Finkelstein." 

"  But  Esther  can  go,"  said  Moses. 

"  Yes,  I'm  going,"  said  Esther. 

"Meshe!"  repeated  the  Bube  inexorably.  "Go  thou  to  the 
Widow  Finkelstein." 

Moses  went. 

"  Have  you  said  the  afternoon  prayer,  boys  ?  "  the  old  woman 
asked. 

"Yes,"  said  Solomon.     "While  you  were  asleep." 

"Oh-h-h!"  said  Esther  under  her  breath.  And  she  looked 
reproachfully  at  Solomon. 

"Well,  didn't  you  say  we  must  make  a  holiday  to-day.?"  he 
whispered  back. 

CHAPTER   XV. 

THE   HOLY   LAND   LEAGUE. 

"Oh,  these  English  Jews!"  said  Melchitsedek  Pinchas,  in 
German. 

"What  have  they  done  to  you  now?"  said  Guedalyah,  the 
greengrocer,  in  Yiddish. 

The  two  languages  are  relatives  and  often  speak  as  they  pass  by. 

"  I  have  presented  my  book  to  every  one  of  them,  but  they 


THE  HOLY  LAND  LEAGUE.  179 

have  paid  me  scarce  enough  to  purchase  poison  for  them  all," 
said  the  little  poet  scowling.  The  cheekbones  stood  out  sharply 
beneath  the  tense  bronzed  skin.  The  black  hair  was  tangled 
and  unkempt  and  the  beard  untrimmed,  the  eyes  darted  venom. 
''One  of  them  —  Gideon,  M.  P.,  the  stockbroker,  engaged  me  to 
teach  his  son  for  his  Bar-niitzvah.  But  the  boy  is  so  stupid! 
So  stupid!  Just  like  his  father.  I  have  no  doubt  he  will  grow 
up  to  be  a  Rabbi.  I  teach  him  his  Portion  —  I  sing  the  words  to 
him  with  a  most  beautiful  voice,  but  he  has  as  much  ear  as  soul. 
Then  I  write  him  a  speech  —  a  wonderful  speech  for  him  to  make 
to  his  parents  and  the  company  at  the  breakfast,  and  in  it,  after 
he  thanks  them  for  their  kindness,  I  make  him  say  how,  with  the 
blessing  of  the  Almighty,  he  will  grow  up  to  be  a  good  Jew,  and 
munificently  support  Hebrew  literature  and  learned  men  like  his 
revered  teacher,  Melchitsedek  Pinchas.  And  he  shows  it  to  his 
father,  and  his  father  says  it  is  not  written  in  good  English,  and 
that  another  scholar  has  already  written  him  a  speech.  Good 
English!  Gideon  has  as  much  knowledge  of  style  as  the  Rev. 
Elkan  Benjamin  of  decency.  Ah,  I  will  shoot  them  both.  I 
know  I  do  not  speak  English  like  a  native  —  but  what  language 
under  the  sun  is  there  I  cannot  wTite?  French,  German,  Spanish, 
Arabic  —  they  flow  from  my  pen  like  honey  from  a  rod.  As  for 
Hebrew,  you  know,  Guedalyah,  I  and  you  are  the  only  two  men 
in  England  who  can  write  Holy  Language  grammatically.  And 
yet  these  miserable  stockbrokers,  Men-of-the-Earth,  they  dare  to 
say  I  cannot  write  English,  and  they  have  given  me  the  sack. 
I,  who  was  teaching  the  boy  true  Judaism  and  the  value  of 
Hebrew  literature." 

"  What!  They  didnH  let  you  finish  teaching  the  boy  his  Por- 
tion because  you  couldn't  write  English  ? " 

"  No  ;  they  had  another  pretext  —  one  of  the  servant  girls  said 
I  wanted  to  kiss  her — lies  ^nd  falsehood.  I  was  kissing  my 
finger  after  kissing  the  Meziizah,  and  the  stupid  abomination 
thought  I  was  kissing  my  hand  to  her.  It  sees  itself  that  they 
don't  kiss  the  Meziizahs  often  in  that  house  —  the  impious  crew. 
And  what  will  be  now?  The  stupid  boy  will  go  home  to  break- 
fast in  a  bazaar  of  costly  presents,  and  he  will  make  the  stupid 


180  CHILDREN  OF  THE    GHETTO. 

speech  written  by  the  fool  of  an  Englishman,  and  the  ladies  will 
weep.  But  where  will  be  the  Judaism  in  all  this?  Who  will 
vaccinate  him  against  free-thinking  as  I  would  have  done?  Who 
will  infuse  into  him  the  true  patriotic  fervor,  the  love  of  his  race, 
the  love  of  Zion,  the  land  of  his  fathers  ?  " 

"  Ah,  you  are  verily  a  man  after  my  own  heart ! "  said  Gue- 
dalyah,  the  greengrocer,  overswept  by  a  wave  of  admiration. 
"  Why  should  you  not  come  with  me  to  my  Beth-Haviidrash 
to-night,  to  the  meeting  for  the  foundation  of  the  Holy  Land 
League?     That  cauliflower  will  be  four-pence,  mum." 

"Ah,  what  is  that?"  said  Pinchas. 

"  I  have  an  idea ;  a  score  of  us  meet  to-night  to  discuss  it." 

"Ah,  yes!  You  have  always  ideas.  You  are  a  sage  and  a 
saint,  Guedalyah.  The  Beth-Ha»iidrash  which  you  have  estab- 
lished is  the  only  centre  of  real  orthodoxy  and  Jewish  literature 
in  London.  The  ideas  you  expound  in  the  Jewish  papers  for 
the  amelioration  of  the  lot  of  our  poor  brethren  are  most  states- 
manlike. But  these  donkey-head  English  rich  people  —  w'hat  help 
can  you  expect  from  them  ?  They  do  not  even  understand  your 
plans.     They  have  only  sympathy  with  needs  of  the  stomach." 

"You  are  right!  You  are  right,  Pinchas!"  said  Guedalyah, 
the  greengrocer,  eagerly.  He  was  a  tall,  loosely-built  man,  with 
a  pasty  complexion  capable  of  shining  with  enthusiasm.  He 
was  dressed  shabbily,  and  in  the  intervals  of  selling  cabbages 
projected  the  regeneration  of  Judah. 

"  That  is  just  what  is  beginning  to  dawn  upon  me,  Pinchas," 
he  went  on.  "Our  rich  people  give  plenty  away  in  charity; 
they  have  good  hearts  but  not  Jewish  hearts.  As  the  verse 
says.  —  A  bundle  of  rhubarb  and  two  pounds  of  Brussels  sprouts 
and  threepence  halfpenny  change.     Thank  you.     Much  obliged. 

—  Now  I  have  bethought  myself  why  should  we  not  work  out 
our  own  salvation?  It  is  the  poor,  the  oppressed,  the  persecuted, 
whose  souls  pant  after  the  Land  of  Israel  as  the  hart  after  the 
water-brooks.  Let  us  help  ourselves.  Let  us  put  our  hands  in 
our  own  pockets.  With  our  Groschen  let  us  rebuild  Jerusalem 
and  our  Holy  Temple.     We  will  collect  a  fund  slowly  but  surely 

—  from  all  parts  of  the  East  End  and  the  provinces  the  pious 


THE  HOLY  LAND   LEAGUE.  181 

will  give.  With  the  first  fruits  we  will  send  out  a  little  party  of 
persecuted  Jews  to  Palestine ;  and  then  another ;  and  another. 
The  movement  will  grow  like  a  sliding  snow-ball  that  becomes 
an  avalanche." 

"  Yes,  then  the  rich  will  come  to  you,"  said  Pinchas,  intensely 
excited.  "Ah!  it  is  a  great  idea,  like  all  yours.  Yes,  I  will 
come,  I  will  make  a  mighty  speech,  for  my  lips,  like  Isaiah's, 
have  been  touched  with  the  burning  coal.  I  will  inspire  all 
hearts  to  start  the  movement  at  once.  I  will  write  its  Marseil- 
laise this  very  night,  bedewing  my  couch  with  a  poet's  tears. 
We  shall  no  longer  be  dumb  —  we  shall  roar  like  the  lions  of 
Lebanon.  I  shall  be  the  trumpet  to  call  the  dispersed  together 
from  the  four  corners  of  the  earth  —  yea,  I  shall  be  the  Messiah 
himself,"  said  Pinchas,  rising  on  the  wings  of  his  own  eloquence, 
and  forgetting  to  puff  at  his  cigar. 

"  I  rejoice  to  see  you  so  ardent ;  but  mention  not  the  word 
Messiah,  for  I  fear  some  of  our  friends  will  take  alarm  and  say 
that  these  are  not  Messianic  times,  that  neither  Elias,  nor  Gog, 
King  of  Magog,  nor  any  of  the  portents  have  yet  appeared. 
Kidneys  or  regents,  my  child?" 

"  Stupid  people!  Hillel  said  more  wisely:  'If  I  help  not  my- 
self who  will  help  me?'  Do  they  expect  the  Messiah  to  fall 
from  heaven?  Who  knows  but  I  am  the  Messiah?  Was  I  not 
born  on  the  ninth  of  Ab?" 

"  Hush,  hush! "  said  Guedalyah,  the  greengrocer.  "  Let  us  be 
practical.  We  are  not  yet  ready  for  Marsellaises  or  Messiahs. 
The  first  step  is  to  get  funds  enough  to  send  one  family  to 
Palestine." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  Pinchas,  drawing  vigorously  at  his  cigar  to 
rekindle  it.  "  But  we  must  look  ahead.  Already  I  see  it  all. 
Palestine  in  the  hands  of  the  Jews  —  the  Holy  Temple  rebuilt,  a 
Jewish  state,  a  President  who  is  equally  accomplished  with  the 
sword  and  the  pen,  —  the  whole  campaign  stretches  before  me. 
I  see  things  like  Napoleon,  general  and  dictator  alike." 

"  Truly  we  wish  that,"  said  the  greengrocer  cautiously.  "  But 
to-night  it  is  only  a  question  of  a  dozen  men  founding  a  collect- 
ing society." 


182  CHILDREN  OF  THE    GHETTO. 

"Of  course,  of  course,  that  I  understand.  You're  right  —  peo- 
ple about  here  say  Guedalyah  the  greengrocer  is  always  right. 
I  will  come  beforehand  to  supper  with  you  to  talk  it  over, 
and  you  shall  see  what  I  will  write  for  the  Mizpeh  and  the 
Arbeiter-freund.  You  know  all  these  papers  jump  at  me  —  their 
readers  are  the  class  to  which  you  appeal  —  in  them  will  I  write 
my  burning  verses  and  leaders  advocating  the  cause.  I  shall  be 
your  Tyrtaeus,  your  Mazzini,  your  Napoleon.  How  blessed  that 
I  came  to  England  just  now.  I  have  lived  in  the  Holy  Land  — 
the  genius  of  the  soil  is  blent  with  mine.  I  can  describe  its 
beauties  as  none  other  can.  I  am  the  very  man  at  the  very  hour. 
And  yet  I  will  not  go  rashly  —  slow  and  sure  —  my  plan  is  to 
collect  small  amounts  from  the  poor  to  start  by  sending  one 
family  at  a  time  to  Palestine.  That  is  how  we  must  do  it. 
How  does  that  strike  you,  Guedalyah.     You  agree?  " 

"Yes,  yes.     That  is  also  my  opinion." 

"You  see  I  am  not  a  Napoleon  only  in  great  ideas.  I  under- 
stand detail,  though  as  a  poet  I  abhor  it.  Ah,  the  Jew  is  king  of 
the  world.  He  alone  conceives  great  ideas  and  executes  them 
by  petty  means.  The  heathen  are  so  stupid,  so  stupid!  Yes, 
you  shall  see  at  supper  how  practically  I  will  draw  up  the  scheme. 
And  then  I  will  show  you,  too,  what  I  have  written  about  Gid- 
eon, M.  P.,  the  dog  of  a  stockbroker  —  a  satirical  poem  have  I 
written  about  him,  in  Hebrew  —  an  acrostic  with  his  name  for 
the  mockery  of  posterity.  Stocks  and  shares  have  I  translated 
into  Hebrew,  with  new  words  which  will  at  once  be  accepted  by 
the  Hebraists  of  the  world  and  added  to  the  vocabulary  of  mod- 
ern Hebrew.  Oh!  I  am  terrible  in  satire.  I  sting  like  the  hor- 
net ;  witty  as  Immanuel,  but  mordant  as  his  friend  Dante.  It 
will  appear  in  the  Mizpeh  to-morrow.  I  will  show  this  Anglo- 
Jewish  community  that  I  am  a  man  to  be  reckoned  with.  I  will 
crush  it  —  not  it  me." 

"  But  they  don't  see  the  Mizpeh  and  couldn't  read  it  if  they 
did." 

"No  matter.  I  send  it  abroad  —  I  have  friends,  great  Rabbis, 
great  scholars,  everywhere,  who  send  me  their  learned  manu- 
scripts, their  commentaries,  their  ideas,  for  revision  and  improve- 


THE  HOLY  LAND  LEAGUE.  183 

ment.  Let  the  Anglo-Jewish  community  hug  itself  in  its  stupid 
prosperity  —  but  I  will  make  it  the  laughing-stock  of  Europe  and 
Asia.  Then  some  day  it  will  find  out  its  mistake ;  it  will  not 
have  ministers  like  the  Rev.  Elkan  Benjamin,  who  keeps  four 
mistresses,  it  will  depose  the  lump  of  flesh  who  reigns  over  it 
and  it  will  seize  the  hem  of  my  coat  and  beseech  me  to  be  its 
Rabbi. ^^ 

"We  should  have  a  more  orthodox  Chief  Rabbi,  certainly," 
admitted  Guedalyah. 

"Orthodox?  Then  and  only  then  shall  we  have  true  Judaism 
in  London  and  a  burst  of  literary  splendor  far  exceeding  that  of 
the  much  overpraised  Spanish  School,  none  of  whom  had  that 
true  lyrical  gift  which  is  like  the  carol  of  the  bird  in  the  pairing 
season.  O  why  have  I  not  the  bird's  privileges  as  well  as  its 
gift  of  song?  Why  can  I  not  pair  at  will?  Oh  the  stupid  Rab- 
bis who  forbade  polygamy.  Verily  as  the  verse  says  :  The  Law 
of  Moses  is  perfect,  enlightening  the  eyes  —  marriage,  divorce, 
all  is  regulated  with  the  height  of  wisdom.  Why  must  we  adopt 
the  stupid  customs  of  the  heathen  ?  At  present  I  have  not  even 
one  mate  —  but  I  love — ah  Guedalyah!  I  love!  The  women 
are  so  beautiful.     You  love  the  women,  hey?" 

"I  love  my  Rivkah,"  said  Guedalyah.  "A  penny  on  each 
gingerbeer  bottle." 

"  Yes,  but  why  haven't  /  got  a  wife  ?  Eh  ? "  demanded  the 
little  poet  fiercely,  his  black  eyes  glittering.  "I  am  a  fine  tall 
well-built  good-looking  man.  In  Palestine  and  on  the  Continent 
all  the  girls  would  go  about  sighing  and  casting  sheep's  eyes  at 
me,  for  there  the  Jews  love  poetry  and  literature.  But  here  !  I 
can  go  into  a  room  with  a  maiden  in  it  and  she  makes  herself 
unconscious  of  my  presence.  There  is  Reb  Shemuel's  daughter 
—  a  fine  beautiful  virgin.  I  kiss  her  hand  —  and  it  is  ice  to  my 
lips.  Ah,  if  I  only  had  money  !  And  money  I  should  have,  if 
these  English  Jews  w-ere  not  so  stupid  and  if  they  elected  me 
Chief  Rabbi.     Then  I  would  marry  —  one,  two,  three  maidens." 

"  Talk  not  such  foolishness,"  said  Guedalyah,  laughing,  for  he 
thought  the  poet  jested.  Pinchas  saw  his  enthusiasm  had  carried 
him  too  far,  but  his  tongue  was  the  most  reckless  of  organs  and 


184  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

often  slipped  into  tlie  truth.  He  was  a  real  poet  with  an  extraor- 
dinary faculty  for  language  and  a  gift  of  unerring  rhythm.  He 
wrote  after  the  mediaeval  model  —  with  a  profusion  of  acrostics 
and  double  rhyming —  not  with  the  bald  duplications  of  primitive 
Hebrew  poetry.  Intellectually  he  divined  things  like  a  woman 
—  with  marvellous  rapidity,  shrewdness  and  inaccuracy.  He  saw 
into  people's  souls  through  a  dark  refracting  suspiciousness.  The 
same  bent  of  mind,  the  same  individuality  of  distorted  insight 
made  him  overflow  with  ingenious  explanations  of  the  Bible  and 
the  Talmud,  with  new  views  and  new  lights  on  history,  philology, 
medicine  —  anything,  everything.  And  he  believed  in  his  ideas 
because  they  were  his  and  in  himself  because  of  his  ideas.  To 
himself  his  stature  sometimes  seemed  to  expand  till  his  head 
touched  the  sun  —  but  that  was  mostly  after  wine  —  and  his 
brain  retained  a  permanent  glow  from  the  contact. 

"Well,  peace  be  with  you!"  said  Pinchas.  "I  will  leave  you 
to  your  customers,  who  besiege  you  as  I  have  been  besieged 
by  the  maidens.  But  what  you  have  just  told  me  has  gladdened 
my  heart.  I  always  had  an  affection  for  you,  but  now  I  love  you 
like  a  woman.  We  will  found  this  Holy  Land  League,  you  and 
L  You  shall  be  President —  I  waive  all  claims  in  your  favor  — 
and  I  will  be  Treasurer.     Hey?" 

"  We  shall  see ;  we  shall  see,"  said  Guedalyah  the  green- 
grocer. 

"  No,  we  cannot  leave  it  to  the  mob,  we  must  settle  it  before- 
hand.    Shall  we  say  done?  " 

He  laid  his  finger  cajolingly  to  the  side  of  his  nose. 

"  We  shall  see,"  repeated  Guedalyah  the  greengrocer,  impa- 
tiently. 

"No,  say!  I  love  you  like  a  brother.  Grant  me  this  favor 
and  I  will  never  ask  anything  of  you  so  long  as  I  live." 

"Well,  if  the  others  —  "  began  Guedalyah  feebly. 

"Ah!  You  are  a  Prince  in  Israel,"  Pinchas  cried  enthusias- 
tically.    "  If  I  could  only  show  you  my  heart,  how  it  loves  you." 

He  capered  off  at  a  sprightly  trot,  his  head  haloed  by  huge 
volumes  of  smoke.  Guedalyah  the  greengrocer  bent  over  a  bin 
of  potatoes.     Looking  up  suddenly  he  was  startled  to  see  the 


THE  HOLY  LAND  LEAGUE,  185 

head  fixed  in  the  open  front  of  the  shop  window.  It  was  a  nar- 
row dark  bearded  face  distorted  witli  an  insinuative  smile.  A 
dirty-nailed  forefinger  was  laid  on  the  right  of  the  nose. 

"  You  won't  forget,"  said  the  head  coaxingly. 

"Of  course  I  won't  forget,"  cried  the  greengrocer  querulously. 

The  meeting  took  place  at  ten  that  night  at  the  Beth  Hamid- 
rash  founded  by  Guedalyah,  a  large  unswept  room  rudely  fitted  up 
as  a  synagogue  and  approached  by  reeking  staircases,  unsavory 
as  the  neighborhood.  On  one  of  the  black  benches  a  shabby 
youth  with  very  long  hair  and  lank  fleshless  limbs  shook  his 
body  violently  to  and  fro  while  he  vociferated  the  sentences  of 
the  Mishnah  in  the  traditional  argumentative  singsong.  Near 
the  central  raised  platform  was  a  group  of  enthusiasts,  among 
whom  Froom  Karlkammer,  with  his  thin  ascetic  body  and  the 
mass  of  red  hair  that  crowned  his  head  like  the  light  of  a  pharos, 
was  a  conspicuous  figure. 

"Peace  be  to  you,  Karlkammer!"  said  Pinchas  to  him  in 
Hebrew. 

"  To  you  be  peace,  Pinchas !  "  replied  Karlkammer. 

"Ah!"  went  on  Pinchas.  "Sweeter  than  honey  it  is  to  me, 
yea  than  fine  honey,  to  talk  to  a  man  in  the  Holy  Tongue. 
Woe,  the  speakers  are  few  in  these  latter  days.  I  and  thou, 
Karlkammer,  are  the  only  two  people  who  can  speak  the  Holy 
Tongue  grammatically  on  this  isle  of  the  sea.  Lo,  it  is  a  great 
thing  we  are  met  to  do  this  night  —  I  see  Zion  laughing  on  her 
mountains  and  her  fig-trees  skipping  for  joy.  I  will  be  the  treas- 
urer of  the  fund,  Karlkammer  —  do  thou  vote  for  me,  for  so  our 
society  shall  flourish  as  the  green  bay  tree." 

Karlkammer  grunted  vaguely,  not  having  humor  enough  to 
recall  the  usual  associations  of  the  simile,  and  Pinchas  passed  on 
to  salute  Hamburg.  To  Gabriel  Hamburg,  Pinchas  was  occasion 
for  half-respectful  amusement.  He  could  not  but  reverence  the 
poet's  genius  even  while  he  laughed  at  his  pretensions  to  omnis- 
cience, and  at  the  daring  and  unscientific  guesses  which  the  poet 
oiTered  as  plain  prose.  For  when  in  their  arguments  Pinchas 
came  upon  Jewish  ground,  he  was  in  presence  of  a  man  who 
knew  every  inch  of  it. 


186  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

"  Blessed  art  thou  who  arrivest,''  he  said  when  he  perceived 
Pinchas.  Then  dropping  into  German  he  continued  —  "I  did 
not  know  you  would  join  in  the  rebuilding  of  Zion." 

"  Why  not  ? "  inquired  Pinchas. 

"  Because  you  have  written  so  many  poems  thereupon." 

"  Be  not  so  foolish,"  said  Pinchas,  annoyed.  "  Did  not  King 
David  fight  the  Philistines  as  well  as  write  the  Psalms?" 

"  Did  he  write  the  Psalms  ? "  said  Hamburg  quietly,  with  a 
smile. 

"No  —  not  so  loud!  Of  course  he  didn't!  The  Psalms  were 
written  by  Judas  Maccabaeus,  as  I  proved  in  the  last  issue  of  the 
Stuttgard  Zeitschrift.  But  that  only  makes  my  analogy  more 
forcible.  You  shall  see  how  I  will  gird  on  sword  and  armor, 
and  I  shall  yet  see  even  you  in  the  forefront  of  the  battle.  I 
will  be  treasurer,  you  shall  vote  for  me,  Hamburg,  for  I  and  you 
are  the  only  two  people  who  know  the  Holy  Tongue  grammati- 
cally, and  we  must  work  shoulder  to  shoulder  and  see  that  the 
balance  sheets  are  drawn  up  in  the  language  of  our  fathers." 

In  like  manner  did  Melchitsedek  Pinchas  approach  Hiram 
Lyons  and  Simon  Gradkoski,  the  former  a  poverty-stricken 
pietist  who  added  day  by  day  to  a  furlong  of  crabbed  manu- 
script, embodying  a  useless  comm.entary  on  the  first  chapter  of 
Genesis ;  the  latter  the  portly  fancy-goods  dealer  in  whose 
warehouse  Daniel  Hyams  was  employed.  Gradkoski  rivalled 
Reb  Shemuel  in  his  knowledge  of  the  exact  loci  of  Talmudical 
remarks  —  page  this,  and  line  that  —  and  secretly  a  tolerant 
latitudinarian,  enjoyed  the  reputation  of  a  bulwark  of  orthodoxy 
too  well  to  give  it  up.  Gradkoski  passed  easily  from  writing 
an  invoice  to  writing  a  learned  article  on  Hebrew  astronomy. 
Pinchas  ignored  Joseph  Strelitski  whose  raven  curl  floated  wildly 
over  his  forehead  like  a  pirate's  flag,  though  Hamburg,  who  was 
rather  surprised  to  see  the  taciturn  young  man  at  a  meeting, 
strove  to  draw  him  into  conversation.  The  man  to  whom 
Pinchas  ultimately  attached  himself  was  only  a  man  in  the 
sense  of  having  attained  his  religious  majority.  He  was  a  Har- 
row boy  named  Raphael  Leon,  a  scion  of  a  wealthy  family. 
The  boy  had  manifested  a  strange  premature  interest  in  Jewish 


THE  HOLY  LAND  LEAGUE.  187 

literature  and  had  often  seen  Gabriel  Hamburg^s  name  in  learned 
foot-notes,  and,  discovering  that  he  was  in  England,  had  just 
written  to  him.  Hamburg  had  replied;  they  had  met  that  day 
for  the  first  time  and  at  the  lad's  own  request  the  old  scholar 
brought  him  on  to  this  strange  meeting.  The  boy  grew  to  be 
Hamburg's  one  link  with  wealthy  England,  and  though  he  rarely 
saw  Leon  again,  the  lad  came  in  a  shadowy  way  to  take  the 
place  he  had  momentarily  designed  for  Joseph  Strelitski.  To- 
night it  was  Pinchas  who  assumed  the  paternal  manner,  but  he 
mingled  it  with  a  subtle  obsequiousness  that  made  the  shy 
simple  lad  uncomfortable,  though  when  he  came  to  read  the 
poet's  lofty  sentiments  which  arrived  (with  an  acrostic  dedica- 
tion) by  the  first  post  next  morning,  he  conceived  an  enthusiastic 
admiration  for  the  neglected  genius. 

The  rest  of  the  ''  remnant ''  that  were  met  to  save  Israel 
looked  more  commonplace  —  a  furrier,  a  slipper-maker,  a  lock- 
smith, an  ex-glazier  (Mendel  Hyams),  a  confectioner,  a  Me- 
lainmed  or  Hebrew  teacher,  a  carpenter,  a  presser,  a  cigar-maker, 
a  small  shop-keeper  or  two,  and  last  and  least,  Moses  Ansell. 
They  were  of  many  birthplaces  —  Austria,  Holland,  Poland, 
Russia,  Germany,  Italy,  Spain  —  yet  felt  themselves  of  no  coun- 
try and  of  one.  Encircled  by  the  splendors  of  modern  Babylon, 
their  hearts  turned  to  the  East,  like  passion-flowers  seeking  the 
sun.  Palestine,  Jerusalem,  Jordan,  the  Holy  Land  were  magic 
syllables  to  them,  the  sight  of  a  coin  struck  in  one  of  Baron 
Edmund's  colonies  filled  their  eyes  with  tears ;  in  death  they 
craved  no  higher  boon  than  a  handful  of  Palestine  earth 
sprinkled  over  their  graves. 

But  Guedalyah  the  greengrocer  was  not  the  man  to  encourage 
idle  hopes.  He  explained  his  scheme  lucidly  —  without  high- 
falutin.  They  were  to  rebuild  Judaism  as  the  coral  insect 
builds  its  reefs  —  not  as  the  prayer  went,  "  speedily  and  in  our 
days." 

They  had  brought  themselves  up  to  expect  more  and  were 
disappointed.  Some  protested  against  peddling  little  measures 
—  like  Pinchas  they  were  for  high,  heroic  deeds.  Joseph  Stre- 
litski, student  and  cigar  commission  agent,  jumped  to  his  feet 


188  CHILDREN  OF  THE    GHETTO. 

and  cried  passionately  in  German:  "Everywhere  Israel  groans 
and  travails  —  must  we  indeed  wait  and  wait  till  our  hearts  are 
sick  and  strike  never  a  decisive  blow  ?  It  is  nigh  two  thousand 
years  since  across  the  ashes  of  our  Holy  Temple  we  were  driven 
into  the  Exile,  clanking  the  chains  of  Pagan  conquerors.  For 
nigh  two  thousand  years  have  we  dwelt  on  alien  soils,  a  mockery 
and  a  byword  for  the  nations,  hounded  out  from  every  worthy 
employ  and  persecuted  for  turning  to  the  unworthy,  spat  upon 
and  trodden  under  foot,  suffusing  the  scroll  of  history  with  our 
blood  and  illuminating  it  with  the  lurid  glare  of  the  fires  to  which 
our  martyrs  have  ascended  gladly  for  the  Sanctification  of.  the 
Name.  We  who  twenty  centuries  ago  were  a  mighty  nation^ 
with  a  law  and  a  constitution  and  a  religion  which  have  been 
the  key-notes  of  the  civilization  of  the  world,  we  who  sat  in 
judgment  by  the  gates  of  great  cities,  clothed  in  purple  and  fine 
linen,  are  the  sport  of  peoples  who  were  then  roaming  wild  in 
woods  and  marshes  clothed  in  the  skins  of  the  wolf  and  the  bear. 
Now  in  the  East  there  gleams  again  a  star  of  hope  —  why  shall 
we  not  follow  it?  Never  has  the  chance  of  the  Restoration 
flamed  so  high  as  to-day.  Our  capitalists  rule  the  markets  of 
Europe,  our  generals  lead  armies,  our  great  men  sit  in  the  Coun- 
cils of  every  State.  We  are  everywhere  —  a  thousand  thousand 
stray  rivulets  of  power  that  could  be  blent  into  a  mighty  ocean. 
Palestine  is  one  if  we  wish  —  the  whole  house  of  Israel  has  but 
to  speak  with  a  mighty  unanimous  voice.  Poets  will  sing  for 
us,  journalists  write  for  us,  diplomatists  haggle  for  us,  million- 
aires pay  the  price  for  us.  The  sultan  would  restore  our  land  to 
us  to-morrow,  did  we  but  essay  to  get  it.  There  are  no  obstacles 
—  but  ourselves.  It  is  not  the  heathen  that  keeps  us  out  of  our 
land  —  it  is  the  Jews,  the  rich  and  prosperous  Jews  —  Jeshurun 
grown  fat  and  sleepy,  dreaming  the  false  dream  of  assimilation 
with  the  people  of  the  pleasant  places  in  which  their  lines  have 
been  cast.  Give  us  back  our  country ;  this  alone  will  solve  the 
Jewish  question.  Our  paupers  shall  become  agriculturists,  and 
like  Antaeus,  the  genius  of  Israel  shall  gain  fresh  strength  by 
contact  with  mother  earth.  And  for  England  it  will  help  to 
solve  the  Indian  question  —  Between  European  Russia  and  India 


THE  HOLY  LAND  LEAGUE.  189 

there  will  be  planted  a  people,  fierce,  terrible,  hating  Russia  for 
her  wild-beast  deeds.  Into  the  Exile  we  took  with  us,  of  all  our 
glories,  only  a  spark  of  the  fire  by  which  our  Temple,  the  abode 
of  our  great  One  was  engirdled,  and  -this  little  spark  kept  us 
alive  while  the  towers  of  our  enemies  crumbled  to  dust,  and  this 
spark  leaped  into  celestial  flame  and  shed  light  upon  the  faces 
of  the  heroes  of  our  race  and  inspired  them  to  endure  the  horrors 
of  the  Dance  of  Death  and  the  tortures  of  the  Auto-da-fe.  Let 
us  fan  the  spark  again  till  it  leap  up  and  become  a  pillar  of  flame 
going  before  us  and  showing  us  the  way  to  Jerusalem,  the  City 
of  our  sires.  And  if  gold  will  not  buy  back  our  land  we  must 
try  steel.  As  the  National  Poet  of  Israel,  Naphtali  Herz  Imber, 
has  so  nobly  sung  (here  he  broke  into  the  Hebrew  IVacht  Am 
Rhem,  of  which  an  English  version  would  run  thus)  : 

"THE   WATCH   ON   THE  JORDAN. 

I. 

"  Like  the  crash  of  the  thunder 
Which  splitteth  asunder 

The  flame  of  the  cloud, 
On  our  ears  ever  falhng, 
A  voice  is  heard  calling 

From  Zion  aloud : 
'  Let  your  spirits'  desires 
For  the  land  of  your  sires 

Eternally  burn. 
From  the  foe  to  deliver 
Our  own  holy  river, 

To  Jordan  return.' 
Where  the  soft  flowing  stream 
Murmurs  low  as  in  dream. 

There  set  we  our  watch. 
Our  watchword,  '  The  sword 
Of  our  land  and  our  Lord  '  — 

By  the  Jordan  then  set  we  our  watch, 

II. 
"  Rest  in  peace,  lov^d  land, 
For  we  rest  not,  but  stand, 


190  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

Off  shaken  our  sloth. 
When  the  bolts  of  war  rattle 
To  shirk  not  the  battle, 

We  make  thee  our  oath. 
As  we  hope  for  a  Heaven, 
Thy  chains  shall  be  riven, 

Thine  ensign  unfurled. 
And  in  pride  of  our  race 
We  will  fearlessly  face 

The  might  of  the  world. 
When  our  trumpet  is  blown. 
And  our  standard  is  flown, 

Then  set  we  our  watch. 
Our  watchword,  '  The  sword 
Of  our  land  and  our  Lord '  — 

By  Jordan  then  set  we  our  watch. 

III. 

"Yea,  as  long  as  there  be 
Birds  in  air,  fish  in  sea. 

And  blood  in  our  veins ; 
And  the  lions  in  might, 
Leaping  down  from  the  height, 

Shake,  roaring,  their  manes; 
And  the  dew  nightly  laves 
The  forgotten  old  graves 

Where  Judah's  sires  sleep, — 
We  swear,  who  are  living, 
To  rest  not  in  striving. 

To  pause  not  to  weep. 
Let  the  trumpet  be  blown. 
Let  the  standard  be  flown. 

Now  set  we  our  watch. 
Our  watchword,  '  The  sword 
Of  our  land  and  our  Lord  '  — 

In  Jordan  NOW  set  we  our  watch." 

He  sank  upon  the  rude,  wooden  bench,  exhausted,  his  eyes 
glittering,  his  raven  hair  dishevelled  by  the  wildness  of  his 
gestures.  He  had  said.  For  the  rest  of  the  evening  he  neither 
moved  nor  spake.  The  calm,  good-humored  tones  of  Simon 
Gradkoski  followed  like  a  cold  shower. 


THE  HOLY  LAND  LEAGUE.  191 

"  We  must  be  sensible,'^  he  said,  for  he  enjoyed  the  reputation 
of  a  shrewd  conciliatory  man  of  the  world  as  well  as  of  a  pillar 
of  orthodoxy.  "  The  great  people  will  come  to  us,  but  not  if  we 
abuse  them.  We  must  flatter  them  up  and  tell  them  they  are 
the  descendants  of  the  Maccabees.  There  is  much  political  kudos 
to  be  got  out  of  leading  such  a  movement  —  this,  too,  they  will 
see.  Rome  was  not  built  in  a  day,  and  the  Temple  will  not  be 
rebuilt  in  a  year.  Besides,  we  are  not  soldiers  now.  We  must 
recapture  our  land  by  brain,  not  sword.  Slow  and  sure  and  the 
blessing  of  God  over  all.*' 

After  suph  wise  Simon  Gradkoski.  But  Gronovitz,  the  He- 
brew teacher,  crypto-atheist  and  overt  revolutionary,  who  read  a 
Hebrew  edition  of  the  "Pickwick  Papers''  in  synagogue  on  the 
Day  of  Atonement,  was  with  Strelitski,  and  a  bigot  whose  relig- 
ion made  his  wife  and  children  wretched  was  with  the  cautious 
Simon  Gradkoski.  Froom-  Karlkammer  followed,  but  his  drift 
was  uncertain.  He  apparently  looked  forward  to  miraculous 
interpositions.  Still  he  approved  of  the  movement  from  one 
point  of  view.  The  more  Jews  lived  in  Jerusalem  the  more 
would  be  enabled  to  die  there  —  which  was  the  aim  of  a  good 
Jew's  life.  As  for  the  Messiah,  he  would  come  assuredly  —  in 
God's  good  time.  Thus  Karlkammer  at  enormous  length  with 
frequent  intervals  of  unintelligibility  and  huge  chunks  of  irrel- 
evant quotation  and  much  play  of  Cabalistic  conceptions.  Pin- 
chas,  who  had  been  fuming  throughout  this  speech,  for  to  him 
Karlkammer  stood  for  the  archetype  of  all  donkeys,  jumped  up 
impatiently  when  Karlkammer  paused  for  breath  and  denounced 
as  an  interruption  that  gentleman's  indignant  continuance  of  his 
speech.  The  sense  of  the  meeting  was  with  the  poet  and  Karl- 
kammer was  silenced.  Pinchas  was  dithyrambic,  sublime,  with 
audacities  which  only  genius  can  venture  on.  He  was  pungently 
merry  over  Imber's  pretensions  to  be  the  National  Poet  of  Israel, 
declaring  that  his  prosody,  his  vocabulary,  and  even  his  grammar 
were  beneath  contempt.  He,  Pinchas,  would  write  Judaea  a  real 
Patriotic  Poem,  which  should  be  sung  from  the  slums  of  White- 
chapel  to  the  Veldts  of  South  Africa,  and  from  the  Mellah  of 
Morocco  to  the  Jtidengasseti  of  Germany,  and  should  gladden 


192  CHILDREN   OF   THE    GHETTO. 

the  hearts  and  break  from  the  mouths  of  the  poor  immigrants 
saluting  the  Statue  of  Liberty  in  New  York  Harbor.  When  he, 
Pinchas,  walked  in  Victoria  Park  of  a  Sunday  afternoon  and 
heard  the  band  play,  the  sound  of  a  cornet  always  seemed  to 
him,  said  he,  like  the  sound  of  Bar  Cochba's  trumpet  calling  the 
warriors  to  battle.  And  when  it  was  all  over  and  the  band 
played  "  God  save  the  Queen,''  it  sounded  like  the  p^an  of  vic- 
tory when  he  marched,  a  conqueror,  to  the  gates  of  Jerusalem. 
Wherefore  he,  Pinchas,  would  be  their  leader.  Had  not  the 
Providence,  which  concealed  so  many  revelations  in  the  letters 
of  the  Torah,  given  him  the  name  Melchitsedek  Pinchas,  whereof 
one  initial  stood  for  Messiah  and  the  other  for  Palestine.  Yes, 
he  would  be  their  Messiah.  But  money  now-a-days  was  the 
sinews  of  war  and  the  first  step  to  Messiahship  was  the  keeping 
of  the  funds.  The  Redeemer  must  in  the  first  instance  be  the 
treasurer.  With  this  anti-climax  Pinchas  wound  up,  his  child- 
ishness and  naivete  conquering  his  cunning. 

Other  speakers  followed  bat  in  the  end  Guedalyah  the  green- 
grocer prevailed.  They  appointed  him  President  and  Simon 
Gradkoski,  Treasurer,  collecting  twenty-five  shillings  on  the 
spot,  ten  from  the  lad  Raphael  Leon.  In  vain  Pinchas  reminded 
the  President  they  would  need  Collectors  to  make  house  to 
house  calls ;  three  other  members  were  chosen  to  trisect  the 
Ghetto.  All  felt  the  incongruity  of  hanging  money  bags  at  the 
saddle-bow  of  Pegasus.  Whereupon  Pinchas  re-lit  his  cigar  and 
muttering  that  they  w-ere  all  fool-men  betook  himself  uncere- 
moniously without. 

Gabriel  Hamburg  looked  on  throughout  with  something  like  a 
smile  on  his  shrivelled  features.  Once  while  Joseph  Strelitski 
was  holding  forth  he  blew  his  nose  violently.  Perhaps  he  had 
taken  too  large  a  pinch  of  snuff.  But  not  a  word  did  the  great 
scholar  speak.  He  would  give  up  his  last  breath  to  promote 
the  Return  (provided  the  Hebrew  manuscripts  w^ere  not  left 
behind  in  alien  museums)  ;  but  the  humors  of  the  enthusiasts 
were  part  of  the  great  comedy  in  the  only  theatre  he  cared  for. 
Mendel  Hyams  was  another  silent  member.  But  he  wept  openly 
under  Strelitski's  harangue. 


THE    COURTSHIP   OF  SHOSSHI  SHMENDRIK,     193 

When  the  meeting  adjourned,  the  lank  unhealthy  swaying 
creature  in  the  corner,  who  had  been  mumbling  the  tractate 
Baba  Kama  out  of  courtesy,  now  burst  out  afresh  in  his  quaint 
argumentative  recitative. 

"What  then  does  it  refer  to?  To  his  stone  or  his  knife  or 
his  burden  which  he  has  left  on  the  highway  and  it  injured  a 
passer-by.  How  is  this?  If  he  gave  up  his  ownership^  whether 
according  to  Rav  or  according  to  Shemuel,  it  is  a  pit,  and  if  he 
retained  his  ownership,  if  according  to  Shemuel,  who  holds  that 
all  are  derived  from  '  his  pit,'  then  it  is  ^  a  pit,'  and  if  according  to 
Rav,  who  holds  that  all  are  derived  from  ^  his  ox,'  then  it  is  '  an 
ox,'  therefore  the  derivatives  of  '  an  ox '  are  the  same  as  "^  an  ox  ' 
itself." 

He  had  been  at  it  all  day,  and  he  went  on  far  into  the  small 
hours,  shaking  his  body  backwards  and  forwards  without 
remission. 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

THE   COURTSHIP   OF   SHOSSHI   SHMENDRIK. 

Meckisch  was  a  Chasid,  which  in  the  vernacular  is  a  saint,  but 
in  the  actual  a  member  of  the  sect  of  the  Chasidiin  whose  centre 
is  Galicia.  In  the  eighteenth  century  Israel  Baal  Shem,  "  the 
Master  of  the  Name,"  retired  to  the  mountains  to  meditate  on 
philosophical  truths.  He  arrived  at  a  creed  of  cheerful  and  even 
stoical  acceptance  of  the  Cosmos  in  all  its  aspects  and  a  convic- 
tion that  the  incense  of  an  enjoyed  pipe  was  grateful  to  the 
Creator.  But  it  is  the  inevitable  misfortune  of  religious  founders 
to  work  apocryphal  miracles  and  to  raise  up  an  army  of  disciples 
who  squeeze  the  teaching  of  their  master  into  their  own  mental 
moulds  and  are  ready  to  die  for  the  resultant  distortion.  It  is 
only  by  being  misunderstood  that  a  great  man  can  have  any 
influence  upon  his  kind.  Baal  Shem  w'as  succeeded  by  an  army 
of  thaumaturgists,  and  the  wonder-working  Rabbis  of  Sadagora 
who  are  in  touch  with  all  the  spirits  of  the  air  enjoy  the  revenue 
of  princes  and  the  reverence  of  Popes.  To  snatch  a  morsel  of 
o 


194  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

such  a  Rabbi's  Sabbath  Kuggol,  or  pudding,  is  to  insure  Paradise, 
and  the  scramble  is  a  scene  to  witness.  Chasidis7n  is  the  ex- 
treme expression  of  Jewish  optimism.  The  Chasidim  are  the 
Corybantes  or  Salvationists  of  Judaism.  In  England  their  idio- 
syncrasies are  limited  to  noisy  jubilant  services  in  their  Chevrah, 
the  worshippers  dancing  or  leaning  or  standing  or  writhing  or 
beating  their  heads  against  the  wall  as  they  will,  and  frisking 
like  happy  children  in  the  presence  of  their  Father. 

Meckisch  also  danced  at  home  and  sang  "Tiddy,  riddy, 
roi,  toi,  toi,  toi,  ta,"  varied  by  "  Rom,  pom,  pom "  and  "  Bim, 
bom "  in  a  quaint  melody  to  express  his  personal  satisfaction 
with  existence.  He  was  a  weazened  little  widower  with  a  deep 
yellow  complexion,  prominent  cheek  bones,  a  hook  nose  and  a 
scrubby,  straggling  little  beard.  Years  of  professional  practice 
as  a  mendicant  had  stamped  his  face  with  an  anguished  sup- 
pliant conciliatory  grin,  which  he  could  not  now  erase  even 
after  business  hours.  It  might  perhaps  have  yielded  to  soap 
and  water  but  the  experiment  had  not  been  tried.  On  his  head 
he  always  wore  a  fur  cap  with  lappets  for  his  ears.  Across  his 
shoulders  was  strung  a  lemon-basket  filled  with  grimy,  gritty 
bits  of  sponge  which  nobody  ever  bought.  Meckisch's  mer- 
chandise was  quite  other.  He  dealt  in  sensational  spectacle. 
As  he  shambled  along  with  extreme  difficulty  and  by  the  aid  of 
a  stick,  his  lower  limbs  which  were  crossed  in  odd  contortions 
appeared  half  paralyzed,  and,  when  his  strange  appearance  had 
attracted  attention,  his  legs  would  give  way  and  he  would  find 
himself  with  his  back  on  the  pavement,  where  he  waited  to  be 
picked  up  by  sympathetic  spectators  shedding  silver  and  copper. 
After  an  indefinite  number  of  performances  Meckisch  would 
hurry  home  in  the  darkness  to  dance  and  sing  "  Tiddy,  riddy, 
roi,  toi,  bim,  bom." 

Thus  Meckisch  lived  at  peace  with  God  and  man,  till  one  day 
the  fatal  thought  came  into  his  head  that  he  wanted  a  second 
wife.  There  was  no  difficulty  in  getting  one  —  by  the  aid  of  his 
friend,  Sugarman  the  S/iadchan  —  and  soon  the  little  man  found 
his  household  goods  increased  by  the  possession  of  a  fat,  Russian 
giantess.     Meckisch  did  not  call  in  the  authorities  to  marry  him. 


THE    COURTSHIP   OF  SHOSSHI  SHMENDRIK.     195 

He  had  a  "  still  weddingj""  which  cost  nothing.  An  artificial 
canopy  made  out  of  a  sheet  and  four  broomsticks  was  erected  in 
the  chimney  corner  and  nine  male  friends  sanctified  the  cere- 
mony by  their  presence.  Meckisch  and  the  Russian  giantess 
fasted  on  their  w^edding  morn  and  everything  was  in  honorable 
order. 

But  Meckisch's  happiness  and  economies  were  short-lived. 
The  Russian  giantess  turned  out  a  tartar.  She  got  her  claws 
into  his  savings  and  decorated  herself  wdth  Paisley  shawls  and 
gold  necklaces.  Nay  more!  She  insisted  that  Meckisch  must 
give  her  "  Society "  and  keep  open  house.  Accordingly  the 
bed-sitting  room  which  they  rented  was  turned  into  a  salon  of 
reception,  and  hither  one  Friday  night  came  Peleg  Shmendrik  and 
his  wife  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Sugarman.  Over  the  Sabbath  meal  the 
current  of  talk  divided  itself  into  masculine  and  feminine  freshets. 
The  ladies  discussed  bonnets  and  the  gentlemen  Talmud.  All 
the  three  men  dabbled,  pettily  enough,  in  stocks  and  shares, 
but  nothing  in  the  w^orld  would  tempt  them  to  transact  any 
negotiation  or  discuss  the  merits  of  a  prospectus  on  the  Sab- 
bath, though  they  were  all  fluttered  by  the  allurements  of  the 
Sapphire  Mines,  Limited,  as  set  forth  in  a  whole  page  of  adver- 
tisement in  the  Jewish  Chronicle,  the  organ  naturally  perused 
for  its  religious  news  on  Friday  evenings.  The  share-list  would 
close  at  noon  on  Monday. 

"  But  when  Moses,  our  teacher,  struck  the  rock,"  said  Peleg 
Shmendrik,  in  the  course  of  the  discussion,  "  he  was  right  the 
first  time  but  wrong  the  second,  because  as  the  Talmud  points 
out,  a  child  may  be  chastised  when  it  is  little,  but  as  it  grows  up 
it  should  be  reasoned  with." 

"  Yes,"  said  Sugarman  the  Shadchan,  quickly  ;  "  but  if  his  rod 
had  not  been  made  of  sapphire  he  would  have  split  that  instead 
of  the  rock." 

"  Was  it  made  of  sapphire  ?  "  asked  Meckisch,  who  was  rather 
a  Man-of-the-Earth. 

"  Of  course  it  was  —  and  a  very  fine  thing,  too,"  answered 
Sugarman. 

"  Do  you  think  so?  "  inquired  Peleg  Shmendrik  eagerly. 


196  CHILDREN   OF   THE    GHETTO. 

"  The  sapphire  is  a  magic  stone,''  answered  Sugarman.  "  It 
improves  the  vision  and  makes  peace  between  foes.  Issachar, 
the  studious  son  of  Jacob,  was  represented  on  the  Breast-plate 
by  the  sapphire.  Do  you  not  know  that  tlie  mist-like  centre  of 
the  sapphire  symbolizes  the  cloud  that  enveloped  Sinai  at  the 
giving  of  the  Law  ?  " 

''  I  did  not  know  that,""  answered  Peleg  Shmendrik,  "  but  I 
know  that  Moses's  Rod  was  created  in  the  twilight  of  the  first 
Sabbath  and  God  did  everything  after  that  with  this  sceptre." 

"  Ah,  but  we  are  not  all  strong  enough  to  wield  Moses's  Rod ; 
it  weighed  forty  seahs,"  said  Sugarman. 

"  How  many  seahs  do  you  think  one  could  safely  carry? "  said 
Meckisch. 

"Five  or  six  seahs — not  more,"  said  Sugarman.  "You  see 
one  might  drop  them  if  he  attempted  more  and  even  sapphire 
may  break  —  the  First  Tables  of  the  Law  were  made  of  sapphire, 
and  yet  from  a  great  height  they  fell  terribly,  and  were  shattered 
to  pieces." 

"  Gideon,  the  M.  P.,  may  be  said  to  desire  a  Rod  of  Moses,  for 
his  secretary  told  me  he  will  take  forty,"  said  Shmendrik. 

"Hush!  what  are  you  saying!"  said  Sugarman.  "Gideon  is 
a  rich  man,  and  then  he  is  a  director." 

"  It  seems  a  good  lot  of  directors,"  said  Meckisch. 

"Good  to  look  at.  But  who  can  tell?"  said  Sugarman,  shak- 
ing his  head.  "The  Queen  of  Sheba  probably  brought  sapphires 
to  Solomon,  but  she  was  not  a  virtuous  woman." 

"Ah,  Solomon!  "  sighed  Mrs.  Shmendrik,  pricking  up  her  ears 
and  interrupting  this  talk  of  stocks  and  stones,  "If  he'd  had  a 
thousand  daughters  instead  of  a  thousand  wives,  even  his  treas- 
ury couldn't  have  held  out.  I  had  only  two  girls,  praised  be  He, 
and  yet  it  nearly  ruined  me  to  buy  them  husbands.  A  dirty 
Greener  comes  over,  without  a  shirt  to  his  skin,  and  nothing  else 
but  he  must  have  two  hundred  pounds  in  the  hand.  And  then 
you've  got  to  stick  to  his  back  to  see  that  he  doesn't  take  his 
breeches  in  his  hand  and  off  to  America.  In  Poland  he  would 
have  been  glad  to  get  a  maiden,  and  would  have  said  thank 
you." 


THE    COURTSHIP   OF  SHOSSHI  SHMENDRIK.      197 

"  Well,  but  what  about  your  own  son?  "  said  Sugarman.  "Whv 
haven't  you  asked  me  to  find  Shosshi  a  wife?  It's  a  sin  against 
the  maidens  of  Israel.  He  must  be  long  past  the  Talmudical 
age." 

"  He  is  twenty-four,"  replied  Peleg  Shmendrik. 

"  Tu,  tu,  tu,  tu,  tu!"  said  Sugarman,  clacking  his  tongue  in 
horror,  "  have  you  perhaps  an  objection  to  his  marrying? " 

"Save  us  and  grant  us  peace!"  said  the  father  in  deprecatory 
horror.  '"Only  Shosshi  is  so  shy.  You  are  aware,  too,  he  is  not 
handsome.     Heaven  alone  knows  whom  he  takes  after." 

"Peleg,  I  blush  for  you,"  said  Mrs.  Shmendrik.  "What  is  the 
matter  with  the  boy?  Is  he  deaf,  dumb,  blind,  unprovided  with 
legs?  If  Shosshi  is  backward  with  the  women,  it  is  because  he 
'  learns '  so  hard  when  he's  not  at  work.  He  earns  a  good  living 
by  his  cabinet-making  and  it  is  quite  time  he  set  up  a  Jewish 
household  for  himself.  How  much  will  you  want  for  finding  him 
a  Calloh  ?  " 

"  Hush! "  said  Sugarman  sternly,  "  do  you  forget  it  is  the  Sab- 
bath ?  Be  assured  I  shall  not  charge  more  than  last  time,  unless 
the  bride  has  an  extra  good  dowry." 

On  Saturday  night  immediately  after  Havdalah,  Sugarman 
went  to  Mr.  Belcovitch,  who  was  just  about  to  resume  work,  and 
informed  him  he  had  the  very  CJiosaji  for  Becky.  "  I  know,"  he 
said,  "  Becky  has  a  lot  of  young  men  after  her,  but  what  are  they 
but  a  pack  of  bare-backs?  How  much  will  you  give  for  a  solid 
man  ?  " 

After  much  haggling  Belcovitch  consented  to  give  twenty 
pounds  immediately  before  the  marriage  ceremony  and  another 
twenty  at  the  end  of  twelve  months. 

"  But  no  pretending  you  haven't  got  it  about  you,  when  we're 
at  the  Shool,  no  asking  us  to  wait  till  we  get  home,"  said  Sugar- 
man,  "  or  else  I  withdraw  my  man,  even  from  under  the  Chiippah 
itself.     When  shall  I  bring  him  for  your  inspection  ?  " 

"  Oh,  to-morrow  afternoon,  Sunday,  when  Becky  will  be  out  in 
the  park  with  her  young  men.     It's  best  I  shall  see  him  first! " 

Sugarman  now  regarded  Shosshi  as  a  married  man!  He 
rubbed  his  hands  and  went  to  see  him.     He  found  him  in  a  little 


198  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTQ. 

shed  in  the  back  yard  where  he  did  extra  work  at  home.  Shosshi 
was  busy  completing  little  wooden  articles  —  stools  and  wooden 
spoons  and  money  boxes  for  sale  in  Petticoat  Lane  next  day.  He 
supplemented  his  wages  that  way. 

"  Good  evening,  Shosshi,'^  said  Sugarman. 

"  Good  evening,"  murmured  Shosshi,  sawing  away. 

Shosshi  was  a  gawky  young  man  with  a  blotched  sandy  face 
ever  ready  to  blush  deeper  with  the  suspicion  that  conversa- 
tions going  on  at  a  distance  were  all  about  him.  His  eyes, 
were  shifty  and  catlike ;  one  shoulder  overbalanced  the  other, 
and  when  he  walked,  he  swayed  loosely  to  and  fro.  Sugar- 
man  was  rarely  remiss  in  the  offices  of  piety  and  he  was  nigh 
murmuring  the  prayer  at  the  sight  of  monstrosities,  "  Blessed 
art  Thou  who  variest  the  creatures."  But  resisting  the  temp- 
tation he  said  aloud,  "  I  have  something  to  tell  you." 

Shosshi  looked  up  suspiciously. 

"  Don't  bother ;  I  am  busy,"  he  said,  and  applied  his  plane  to 
the  leg  of  a  stool. 

"  But  this  is  more  important  than  stools.  How  would  you 
like  to  get  married  ?  " 

Shosshi's  face  became  like  a  peony. 

"  Don't  make  laughter,"  he  said. 

"But  I  mean  it.  You  are  twenty-four  years  old  and  ought  to 
have  a  wife  and  four  children  by  this  time." 

"But  I  don't  want  a  wife  and  four  children,"  said  Shosshi. 

"No,  of  course  not.  I  don't  mean  a  widow.  It  is  a  maiden  I 
have  in  my  eye." 

"  Nonsense,  what  maiden  would  have  me  ?  "  said  Shosshi,  a 
note  of  eagerness  mingling  with  the  diffidence  of  the  words. 

"  What  maiden?  Gott  in  Himmcll  A  hundred.  A  fine,  strong, 
healthy  young  man  like  you,  who  can  make  a  good  living!  " 

Shosshi  put  down  his  plane  and  straightened  himself.  There 
was  a  moment  of  silence.  Then  his  frame  collapsed  again  into 
a  limp  mass.  His  head  drooped  over  his  left  shoulder.  "  This 
is  all  foolishness  you  talk,  the  maidens  make  mock." 

"  Be  not  a  piece  of  clay!  I  know  a  maiden  who  has  you  quite 
in  affection!" 


THE    COURTSHIP   OF  SHOSSHI  SHMENDRIK.      199 

The  blush  which  had  waned  mantled  in  a  full  flood.  Shosshi 
stood  breathless,  gazing  half  suspiciously,  half  credulously  at 
his  strictly  honorable  Mephistopheles. 

It  was  about  seven  o'clock  and  the  moon  was  a  yellow  cres- 
cent in  the  frosty  heavens.  The  sky  was  punctured  with  clear- 
cut  constellations.  The  back  yard  looked  poetic  with  its  blend 
of  shadow  and  moonlight. 

"A  beautiful  fine  maid,"  said  Sugarman  ecstatically,  "with 
pink  cheeks  and  black  eyes  and  forty  pounds  dowry." 

The  moon  sailed  smilingly  along.  The  water  was  running 
into  the  cistern  with  a  soothing,  peaceful  sound.  Shosshi  con- 
sented to  go  and  see  Mr.  Belcovitch. 

Mr.  Belcovitch  made  no  parade.  Everything  was  as  usual. 
On  the  wooden  table  were  two  halves  of  squeezed  lemons,  a 
piece  of  chalk,  two  cracked  cups  and  some  squashed  soap. 
He  was  not  overwhelmed  by  Shosshi,  but  admitted  he  was 
solid.  His  father  was  known  to  be  pious,  and  both  his  sis- 
ters had  married  reputable  men.  Above  all,  he  was  not  a 
Dutchman.  Shosshi  left  No,  i  Royal  Street,  Belcovitch's 
accepted  son-in-law.  Esther  met  him  on  the  stairs  and  noted 
the  radiance  on  his  pimply  countenance.  He  walked  with  his 
head  almost  erect.  Shosshi  was  indeed  very  much  in  love  and 
felt  that  all  that  was  needed  for  his  happiness  was  a  sight  of 
his  future  wife. 

But  he  had  no  time  to  go  and  see  her  except  on  Sunday  after- 
noons, and  then  she  was  always  out.  Mrs.  Belcovitch,  however, 
made  amends  by  paying  him  considerable  attention.  The  sickly- 
looking  little  woman  chatted  to  him  for  hours  at  a  time  about 
her  ailments  and  invited  him  to  taste  her  medicine,  which  was  a 
compliment  Mrs.  Belcovitch  passed  only  to  her  most  esteemed 
visitors.  By  and  by  she  even  wore  her  night-cap  in  his  presence 
as  a  sign  that  he  had  become  one  of  the  family.  Under  this 
encouragement  Shosshi  grew  confidential  and  imparted  to  his 
future  mother-in-law  the  details  of  his  mother's  disabilities.  But 
he  could  mention  nothing  which  Mrs.  Belcovitch  could  not  cap, 
for  she  was  a  woman  extremely  catholic  in  her  maladies.  She 
was  possessed  of  considerable  imagination,  and  once  when  Fanny 


200  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

selected  a  bonnet  for  her  in  a  milliner's  window,  the  girl  had 
much  difficulty  in  persuading  her  it  was  not  inferior  to  what 
turned  out  to  be  the  reflection  of  itself  in  a  side  mirror. 

"  Pm  so  weak  upon  my  legs,"  she  would  boast  to  Shosshi.  "  I 
was  born  with  ill-matched  legs.  One  is  a  thick  one  and  one  is 
a  thin  one,  and  so  one  goes  about." 

Shosshi  expressed  his  sympathetic  admiration  and  the  court- 
ship proceeded  apace.  Sometimes  Fanny  and  Pesach  Weingott 
would  be  at  home  working,  and  they  were  very  affable  to  him. 
He  began  to  lose  something  of  his  shyness  and  his  lurching  gait, 
and  he  quite  looked  forward  to  his  weekly  visit  to  the  Belco- 
vitches.  It  was  the  story  of  Cymon  and  Iphigenia  over  again. 
Love  improved  even  his  powers  of  conversation,  for  when  Bel- 
covitch  held  forth  at  length  Shosshi  came  in  several  times  with 
"So?"  and  sometimes  in  the  right  place.  Mr.  Belcovitch  loved 
his  own  voice  and  listened  to  it,  the  arrested  press-iron  in  his 
hand.  Occasionally  in  the  middle  of  one  of  his  harangues  it 
would  occur  to  him  that  some  one  was  talking  and  wasting  time, 
and  then  he  would  say  to  the  room, ''Shah!  Make  an  end, 
make  an  end,"  and  dry  up.  But  to  Shosshi  he  was  especially 
polite,  rarely  interrupting  himself  when  his  son-in-law  elect  was 
hanojino;  on  his  words.  There  was  an  intimate  tender  tone 
about  these  can  series. 

"I  should  like  to  drop  down  dead  suddenly,"  he  would  say 
with  the  air  of  a  philosopher,  who  had  thought  it  all  out.  "I 
shouldn't  care  to  lie  up  in  bed  and  mess  about  with  medicine 
and  doctors.     To  make  a  long  job  of  dying  is  so  expensive." 

"So?"  said  Shosshi. 

"Don't  worry.  Bear!  I  dare  say  the  devil  will  seize  you  sud- 
denly," interposed  Mrs.  Belcovitch  drily. 

"  It  will  not  be  the  devil,"  said  Mr.  Belcovitch,  confidently 
and  in  a  confidential  manner.  "  If  I  had  died  as  a  young  man, 
Shosshi,  it  might  have  been  different." 

Shosshi  pricked  up  his  ears  to  listen  to  the  tale  of  Bear's  wild 
cubhood. 

"One  morning,"  said  Belcovitch,  "in  Poland,  I  got  up  at  four 
o'clock  to  go  to  Supplications  for  Forgiveness.     The  air  was  raw 


THE    COURTSHIP   OF  SHOSSHI  SHMENDRIK.      201 

and  there  was  no  sign  of  dawn  !  Suddenly  I  noticed  a  black  pig 
trotting  behind  me.  I  quickened  my  pace  and  the  black  pig  did 
likewise.  I  broke  into  a  run  and  I  heard  the  pig's  paws  patting 
furiously  upon  the  hard  frozen  ground.  A  cold  sweat  broke  out 
all  over  me.  I  looked  over  my  shoulder  and  saw  the  pig's  eyes 
burning  like  red-hot  coals  in  the  darkness.  Then  I  knew  that 
the  Not  Good  One  was  after  me.  '  Hear,  O  Israel/  I  cried.  I 
looked  up  to  the  heavens  but  there  was  a  cold  mist  covering  the 
stars.  Faster  and  faster  I  flew  and  faster  and  faster  flew  the 
demon  pig.  At  last  the  Shool  came  in  sight.  I  made  one  last 
wild  effort  and  fell  exhausted  upon  the  holy  threshold  and  the 
pig  vanished.'' 

"  So  ?  "  said  Shosshi,  with  a  long  breath. 

"  Immediately  after  Shool  I  spake  with  the  Rabbi  and  he  said 
'■  Bear,  are  thy  Tephillin  in  order  ?  '  So  I  said  '  Yea,  Rabbi,  they 
are  very  large  and  I  bought  them  of  the  pious  scribe,  Naphtali, 
and  I  look  to  the  knots  weekly.''  But  he  said,  '  I  will  examine 
them.'  So  I  brought  them  to  him  and  he  opened  the  head- 
phylactery  and  lo  !  in  place  of  the  holy  parchment  he  found 
bread  crumbs." 

"  Hoi,  hoi,"  said  Shosshi  in  horror,  his  red  hands  quivering. 

"Yes,"  said  Bear  mournfully,  "I  had  worn  them  for  ten  years 
and  moreover  the  leaven  had  defiled  all  my  Passovers." 

Belcovitch  also  entertained  the  lover  with  details  of  the  internal 
politics  of  the  "  Sons  of  the  Covenant." 

Shosshi's  affection  for  Becky  increased  weekly  under  the  stress 
of  these  intimate  conversations  with  her  family.  At  last  his  pas- 
sion was  rewarded,  and  Becky,  at  the  violent  instance  of  her  father, 
consented  to  disappoint  one  of  her  young  men  and  stay  at  home  to 
meet  her  future  husband.  She  put  off  her  consent  till  after  din- 
ner though,  and  it  began  to  rain  immediately  before  she  gave  it. 

The  moment  Shosshi  came  into  the  room  he  divined  that  a 
change  had  come  over  the  spirit  of  the  dream.  Out  of  the  cor- 
ners of  his  eyes  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  an  appalling  beauty 
standing  behind  a  sewing  machine.  His  face  fired  up,  his  legs 
began  to  quiver,  he  wished  the  ground  would  open  and  swallow 
him  as  it  did  Korah. 


202  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

"Becky,"  said  Mr.  Belcovitch,  "this  is  Mr.  Shosshi  Shmen- 
drik." 

Shosshi  put  on  a  sickly  grin  and  nodded  his  head  affirmatively, 
as  if  to  corroborate  the  statement,  and  the  round  felt  hat  he  wore 
slid  back  till  the  broad  rim  rested  on  his  ears.  Through  a  sort 
of  mist  a  terribly  fine  maid  loomed. 

Becky  stared  at  him  haughtily  and  curled  her  lip.  Then  she 
giggled. 

Shosshi  held  out  his  huge  red  hand  limply.  Becky  took  no 
notice  of  it. 

"  Nu,  Becky  !  "  breathed  Belcovitch,  in  a  whisper  that  could 
have  been  heard  across  the  way. 

"  How  are  you  ?  All  right  ?"  said  Becky,  very  loud,  as  if  she 
thought  deafness  was  among  Shosshi^s  disadvantages. 

Shosshi  grinned  reassuringly. 

There  was  another  silence. 

Shosshi  wondered  whether  the  co7ivenances  would  permit  him 
to  take  his  leave  now.  He  did  not  feel  comfortable  at  all. 
Everything  had  been  going  so  delightfully,  it  had  been  quite 
a  pleasure  to  him  to  come  to  the  house.  But  now  all  was 
changed.  The  course  of  true  love  never  does  run  smooth, 
and  the  advent  of  this  new  personage  into  the  courtship  was 
distinctly  embarrassing. 

The  father  came  to  the  rescue. 

"  A  little  rum  ?  "  he  said. 

"  Yes,"  said  Shosshi. 

"  Chayah!  nu.     Fetch  the  bottle!  " 

Mrs.  Belcovitch  went  to  the  cliest  of  drawers  in  the  corner 
of  the  room  and  took  from  the  top  of  it  a  large  decanter.  She 
then  produced  two  glasses  without  feet  and  filled  them  with  the 
home-made  rum,  handing  one  to  Shosshi  and  the  other  to  her 
husband.  Shosshi  muttered  a  blessing  over  it,  then  he  leered 
vacuously  at  the  company  and  cried,  "  To  life! " 

"To  peace!"  replied  the  older  man,  gulping  down  the  spirit. 
Shosshi  was  doing  the  same,  when  his  eye  caught  Becky's. 
He  choked  for  five  minutes,  Mrs.  Belcovitch  thumping  him 
maternally  on  the  back.     When  he  was  comparatively  recovered 


THE    COURTSHIP   OF  SHOSSHI  SHMENDRTK.    203 

the  sense  of  his  disgrace  rushed  upon  him  and  overwhelmed 
him  afresh.  Becky  was  still  giggling  behind  the  sewing  ma- 
chine. Once  more  Shosshi  felt  that  the  burden  of  the  conver- 
sation was  upon  him.  He  looked  at  his  boots  and  not  seeing 
anything  there,  looked  up  again  and  grinned  encouragingly  at 
the  company  as  if  to  waive  his  rights.  But  finding  the  com- 
pany did  not  respond,  he  blew  his  nose  enthusiastically  as  a 
lead  oif  to  the  conversation. 

Mr.  Belcovitch  saw  his  embarrassment,  and,  making  a  sign  to 
Chayah,  slipped  out  of  the  room  followed  by  his  wife.  Shosshi 
was  left  alone  with  the  terribly  fine  maid. 

Becky  stood  still,  humming  a  little  air  and  looking  up  at  the 
ceiling,  as  if  she  had  forgotten  Shosshi's  existence.  With  her 
eyes  in  that  position  it  was  easier  for  Shosshi  to  look  at  her. 
He  stole  side-long  glances  at  her,  which,  growing  bolder  and 
bolder,  at  length  fused  into  an  uninterrupted  steady  gaze.  How 
fine  and  beautiful  she  was!  His  eyes  began  to  glitter,  a  smile 
of  approbation  overspread  his  face.  Suddenly  she  looked  down 
and  their  eyes  met.  Shosshi's  smile  hurried  off  and  gave  way 
to  a  sickly  sheepish  look  and  his  legs  felt  weak.  The  terribly 
fine  maid  gave  a  kind  of  snort  and  resumed  her  inspection  of 
the  ceiling.  Gradually  Shosshi  found  himself  examining  her 
again.  Verily  Sugarman  had  spoken  truly  of  her  charms.  But 
—  overwhelming  thought  —  had  not  Sugarman  also  said  she 
loved  him?  Shosshi  knew  nothing  of  the  ways  of  girls,  except 
what  he  had  learned  from  the  Talmud.  Quite  possibly  Becky 
was  now  occupied  in  expressing  ardent  affection.  He  shuffled 
towards  her,  his  heart  beating  violently.  He  was  near  enough 
to  touch  her.  The  air  she  was  humming  throbbed  in  his  ears. 
He  opened  his  mouth  to  speak  —  Becky  becoming  suddenly 
aware  of  his  proximity  fixed  him  with  a  basilisk  glare  —  the 
words  were  frozen  on  his  lips.  For  some  seconds  his  mouth 
remained  open,  then  the  ridiculousness  of  shutting  it  again 
without  speaking  spurred  him  on  to  make  some  sound,  however 
meaningless.  He  made  a  violent  effort  and  there  burst  from 
his  lips  in  Hebrew  : 

"  Happy  are  those  who  dwell  in  thy  house,  ever  shall   they 


204  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

praise  thee,  Selah! "  It  was  not  a  compliment  to  Becky.  Shos- 
shi's  face  lit  up  with  joyous  relief.  By  some  inspiration  he  had 
started  the  afternoon  prayer.  He  felt  that  Becky  would  under- 
stand the  pious  necessity.  With  fervent  gratitude  to  the  Al- 
mighty he  continued  the  Psalm  :  "  Happy  are  the  people  whose 
lot  is  thus,  etc."  Then  he  turned  his  back  on  Becky,  with  his 
face  to  the  East  wall,  made  three  steps  forwards  and  commenced 
the  silent  delivery  of  the  Amidah.  Usually  he  gabbled  off  the 
"Eighteen  Blessings 'Mn  five  minutes.  To-day  they  were  pro- 
longed till  he  heard  the  footsteps  of  the  returning  parents- 
Then  he  scurried  through  the  relics  of  the  service  at  lightning 
speed.  When  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Belcovitch  re-entered  the  room 
they  saw  by  his  happy  face  that  all  was  well  and  made  no 
opposition  to  his  instant  departure. 

He  came  again  the  next  Sunday  and  was  rejoiced  to  find  that 
Becky  was  out,  though  he  had  hoped  to  find  her  in.  The  court- 
ship made  great  strides  that  afternoon,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Belcovitch 
being  more  amiable  than  ever  to  compensate  for  Becky's  private 
refusal  to  entertain  the  addresses  of  such  a  Shniuck.  There  had 
been  sharp  domestic  discussions  during  the  week,  and  Becky  had 
only  sniffed  at  her  parents'  commendations  of  Shosshi  as  a  ''  very 
worthy  youth."  She  declared  that  it  was  "remission  of  sins 
merely  to  look  at  him." 

Next  Sabbath  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Belcovitch  paid  a  formal  visit  to 
Shosshi's  parents  to  make  their  acquaintance,  and  partook  of  tea 
and  cake.  Becky  was  not  with  them;  moreover  she  defiantly 
declared  she  would  never  be  at  home  on  a  Sunday  till  Shosshi 
was  married.  They  circumvented  her  by  getting  him  up  on 
a  weekday.  The  image  of  Becky  had  been  so  often  in  his 
thoughts  now  that  by  the  time  he  saw  her  the  second  time  he 
was  quite  habituated  to  her  appearance.  He  had  even  imagined 
his  arm  round  her  waist,  but  in  practice  he  found  he  could  go  no 
further  as  yet  than  ordinary  conversation. 

Becky  was  sitting  sewing  buttonholes  when  Shosshi  arrived. 
Everybody  was  there  —  Mr.  Belcovitch  pressing  coats  with  hot 
irons  ;  Fanny  shaking  the  room  with  her  heavy  machine  ;  Pesach 
Weingott  cutting  a  piece  of  chalk-marked  cloth  ;  Mrs.  Belcovitch 


THE    COURTSHIP   OF  SHOSSHI  SHMENDRIK.     205 

carefully  pouring  out  tablespoonfuls  of  medicine.  There  were 
even  some  outside  "  hands/'  work  being  unusually  plentiful,  as 
from  the  manifestos  of  Simon  Wolf,  the  labor-leader,  the  slop 
manufacturers  anticipated  a  strike. 

Sustained  by  their  presence,  Shosshi  felt  a  bold  and  gallant 
wooer.  He  determined  that  this  time  he  would  not  go  without 
having  addressed  at  least  one  remark  to  the  object  of  his  affec- 
tions. Grinning  amiably  at  the  company  generally,  by  way  of 
salutation,  he  made  straight  for  Becky's  corner.  The  terribly 
fine  lady  snorted  at  the  sight  of  him,  divining  that  she  had  been 
out-manoeuvred.  Belcovitch  surveyed  the  situation  out  of  the 
corners  of  his  eyes,  not  pausing  a  moment  in  his  task. 

'•'■  Nil,  how  goes  it,  Becky?"  Shosshi  murmured. 

Becky  said,  "All  right,  how  are  you?" 

"God  be  thanked,  I  have  nothing  to  complain  of,"  said 
Shosshi,  encouraged  by  the  warmth  of  his  welcome.  "My  eyes 
are  rather  weak,  still,  though  much  better  than  last  year." 

Becky  made  no  reply,  so  Shosshi  continued  :  "  But  my  mother 
is  always  a  sick  person.  She  has  to  swallow  bucketsful  of  cod 
liver  oil.     She  cannot  be  long  for  this  world." 

"Nonsense,  nonsense,"  put  in  Mrs.  Belcovitch,  appearing  sud- 
denly behind  the  lovers.  "  My  children's  children  shall  never  be 
any  worse  ;  it's  all  fancy  with  her,  she  coddles  herself  too  much." 

"  Oh,  no,  she  says  she's  much  worse  than  you,"  Shosshi  blurted 
out,  turning  round  to  face  his  future  mother-in-law. 

"  Oh,  indeed!  "  said  Chayah  angrily.  "  My  enemies  shall  have 
my  maladies!  If  your  mother  had  my  health,  she  would  be  lying 
in  bed  with  it.  But  I  go  about  in  a  sick  condition.  I  can  hardly 
crawl  around.  Look  at  my  legs  —  has  your  mother  got  such 
legs?  One  a  thick  one  and  one  a  thin  one." 

Shosshi  grew  scarlet;  he  felt  he  had  blundered.  It  was  the 
first  real  shadow  on  his  courtship — perhaps  the  little  rift  within 
the  lute.  He  turned  back  to  Becky  for  sympathy.  There  was 
no  Becky.  She  had  taken  advantage  of  the  conversation  to  slip 
away.  He  found  her  again  in  a  moment  though,  at  the  other 
end  of  the  room.  She  was  seated  before  a  machine.  He  crossed 
the  room  boldly  and  bent  over  her, 


206  CHILDREN   OF   THE    GHETTO. 

"Don't  you  feel  cold,  working?" 

B7'-r-r-r-7'-r-h  I 

It  was  the  machine  turning.  Becky  had  set  the  treadle  go- 
ing madly  and  was  pushing  a  piece  of  cloth  under  the  needle. 
When  she  paused,  Shosshi  said : 

"Have  you  heard  Reb  Shemuel  preach?  He  told  a  very  amus- 
ing allegory  last  —  " 

Br-r-r-r-r-r-r-h ! 

Undaunted,  Shosshi  recounted  the  amusing  allegory  at  length, 
and  as  the  noise  of  her  machine  prevented  Becky  hearing  a  word 
she  found  his  conversation  endurable.  After  several  more  mono- 
logues, accompanied  on  the  machine  by  Becky,  Shosshi  took  his 
departure  in  high  feather,  promising  to  bring  up  specimens  of 
his  handiwork  for  her  edification. 

On  his  next  visit  he  arrived  with  his  arms  laden  with  choice 
morsels  of  carpentry.  He  laid  them  on  the  table  for  her  admira- 
tion. 

They  were  odd  knobs  and  rockers  for  Polish  cradles!  The 
pink  of  Becky's  cheeks  spread  all  over  her  face  like  a  blot  of  red 
ink  on  a  piece  of  porous  paper.  Shosshi's  face  reflected  the  color 
in  even  more  ensanguined  dyes.  Becky  rushed  from  the  room 
and  Shosshi  heard  her  giggling  madly  on  the  staircase.  It 
dawned  upon  him  that  he  had  displayed  bad  taste  in  his  se- 
lection. 

"What  have  you  done  to  my  child?"  Mrs.  Belcovitch  in- 
quired. 

"  N-n-othing,"  he  stammered ;  "  I  only  brought  her  some  of 
my  work  to  see." 

"And  is  this  what  one  shows  to  a  young  girl?"  demanded  the 
mother  indignantly. 

"  They  are  only  bits  of  cradles,"  said  Shosshi  deprecatingly. 
"  I  thought  she  would  like  to  see  what  nice  workmanly  things  I 
turned  out.  See  how  smoothly  these  rockers  are  carved  !  There 
is  a  thick  one,  and  there  is  a  thin  one! " 

"Ah!  Shameless  droll!  dost  thou  make  mock  of  my  legs, 
too?"  said  Mrs.  Belcovitch.  "Out,  impudent  face,  out  with 
thee!" 


THE    COURTSHIP   OF  SHOSSHI  SHMENDRIK.     207 

Shosshi  gathered  up  his  specimens  in  his  arms  and  fled  through 
the  door.  Becky  was  still  in  hilarious  eruption  outside.  The 
sight  of  her  made  confusion  worse  confounded.  The  knobs  and 
rockers  rolled  thunderously  down  the  stairs  ;  Shosshi  stumbled 
after  them,  picking  them  up  on  his  course  and  wishing  himself 
dead. 

All  Sugarman's  strenuous  eiforts  to  patch  up  the  affair  failed. 
Shosshi  went  about  broken-hearted  for  several  days.  To  have 
been  so  near  the  goal  —  and  then  not  to  arrive  after  all!  What 
made  failure  more  bitter  was  that  he  had  boasted  of  his  conquest 
to  his  acquaintances,  especially  to  the  two  who  kept  the  stalls  to 
the  right  and  left  of  him  on  Sundays  in  Petticoat  Lane.  They 
made  a  butt  of  him  as  it  was ;  he  felt  he  could  never  stand  be- 
tween them  for  a  whole  morning  now,  and  have  Attic  salt  put 
upon  his  wounds.  He  shifted  his  position,  arranging  to  pay  six- 
pence a  time  for  the  privilege  of  fixing  himself  outside  Widow 
Finkelstein's  shop,  which  stood  at  the  corner  of  a  street,  and 
might  be  presumed  to  intercept  two  streams  of  pedestrians. 
Widow  Finkelstein's  shop  was  a  chandler''s,  and  she  did  a  large 
business  in  farthing-worths  of  boiling  water.  There  was  thus 
no  possible  rivalry  between  her  ware  and  Shosshi's,  which  con- 
sisted of  wooden  candlesticks,  little  rocking  chairs,  stools,  ash- 
trays, etc.,  piled  up  artistically  on  a  barrow. 

But  Shosshi's  luck  had  gone  with  the  change  of  locus.  His 
clientUe  went  to  the  old  spot  but  did  not  find  him.  He  did  not 
even  make  a  hansel.  At  two  o'clock  he  tied  his  articles  to  the 
barrow  with  a  complicated  arrangement  of  cords.  Widow  Fink- 
elstein  waddled  out  and  demanded  her  sixpence.  Shosshi  re- 
plied that  he  had  not  taken  sixpence,  that  the  coign  was  not  one 
of  vantage.  Widow  Finkelstein  stood  up  for  her  rights,  and  even 
hung  on  to  the  barrow  for  them.  There  was  a  short,  sharp  argu- 
ment, a  simultaneous  jabbering,  as  of  a  pair  of  monkeys.  Shos- 
shi Shmendrik's  pimply  face  worked  with  excited  expostulation, 
Widow  Finkelstein's  cushion-like  countenance  was  agitated  by 
waves  of  righteous  indignation.  Suddenly  Shosshi  darted  be- 
tween the  shafts  and  made  a  dash  oiT  with  the  barrow  down  the 
side  street.     But  Widow  Finkelstein  pressed  it  down  with  all 


208  CHILDREN  OF  THE    GHETTO. 

her  force,  arresting  the  motion  like  a  drag.  Incensed  by  the 
laugliter  of  the  spectators,  Shosslii  put  forth  all  his  strength  at 
the  shafts,  jerked  the  widow  off  her  feet  and  see-sawed  her  sky- 
wards, huddled  up  spherically  like  a  balloon,  but  clinging  as 
grimly  as  ever  to  the  defalcating  barrow.  Then  Shosshi  started 
off  at  a  run,  the  carpentry  rattling,  and  the  dead  w'eight  of  his 
living  burden  making  his  muscles  ache. 

Right  to  the  end  of  the  street  he  dragged  her,  pursued  by  a 
hooting  crowd.     Then  he  stopped,  worn  out. 

"  Will  you  give  me  that  sixpence,  you  Gonofl  " 

"  No,  I  haven't  got  it.  You'd  better  go  back  to  your  shop, 
else  you'll  suffer  from  worse  thieves." 

It  was  true.  Widow  Finkelstein  smote  her  wig  in  horror  and 
hurried  back  to  purvey  treacle. 

But  that  night  when  she  shut  up  the  shutters,  she  hurried  off 
to  Shosshi's  address,  which  she  had  learned  in  the  interim.  His 
little  brother  opened  the  door  and  said  Shosshi  was  in  the  shed. 

He  was  just  nailing  the  thicker  of  those  rockers  on  to  the 
body  of  a  cradle.  His  soul  was  full  of  bitter-sweet  memories. 
Widow  Finkelstein  suddenly  appeared  in  the  moonlight.  F'or 
a  moment  Shosshi's  heart  beat  wildly.  He  thought  the  buxom 
figure  was  Becky's. 

"I  have  come  for  my  sixpence." 

Ah!  The  words  awoke  him  from  his  dream.  It  was  only  the 
Widow  Finkelstein. 

And  yet  —  !  Verily,  the  widow,  too,  was  plump  and  agree- 
able ;  if  only  her  errand  had  been  pleasant,  Shosshi  felt  she 
might  have  brightened  his  back  yard.  He  had  been  moved  to 
his  depths  latterly  and  a  new  tenderness  and  a  new  boldness 
towards  women  shone  in  his  eyes. 

He  rose  and  put  his  head  on  one  side  and  smiled  amiably  and 
said,  "  Be  not  so  foolish.  I  did  not  take  a  copper.  I  am  a  poor 
young  man.     You  have  plenty  of  money  in  your  stocking." 

"How  know  you  that?"  said  the  widow,  stretching  for- 
ward her  right  foot  meditatively  and  gazing  at  the  strip  of 
stocking  revealed. 

"  Never  mind !  "  said  Shosshi,  shaking  his  head  sapiently. 


THE  HYAMS'S  HONEYMOON.  209 

"Well,  it's  true,"  she  admitted.  "I  have  two  hundred  and 
seventeen  golden  sovereigns  besides  my  shop.  But  for  all  that 
why  should  you  keep  my  sixpence?"  She  asked  it  with  the 
same  good-humored  smile. 

The  logic  of  that  smile  was  unanswerable.  Shosshi's  mouth 
opened,  but  no  sound  issued  from  it.  He  did  not  even  say  the 
Evening  Prayer.  The  moon  sailed  slowly  across  the  heavens. 
The  water  flowed  into  the  cistern  with  a  soft  soothing  sound. 

Suddenly  it  occurred  to  Shosshi  that  the  widow's  waist  was 
not  very  unlike  that  which  he  had  engirdled  imaginatively.  He 
thought  he  would  just  try  if  the  sensation  was  anything  like 
what  he  had  fancied.  His  arm  strayed  timidly  round  her  black- 
beaded  mantle.  The  sense  of  his  audacity  was  delicious.  He 
was  wondering  whether  he  ought  to  say  She-hechyoni —  the 
prayer  over  a  new  pleasure.  But  the  Widow  Finkelstein 
stopped  his  mouth  with  a  kiss.  After  that  Shosshi  forgot  his 
pious  instincts. 

Except  old  Mrs.  Ansell,  Sugarman  was  the  only  person 
scandalized.  Shosshi's  irrepressible  spirit  of  romance  had  robbed 
him  of  his  commission.  But  Meckisch  danced  with  Shosshi 
Shmendrik  at  the  wedding,  while  the  Calloh  footed  it  with  the 
Russian  giantess.  The  men  danced  in  one-half  of  the  room,  the 
women  in  the  other. 

CHAPTER   XVH. 

THE   HYAMS'S   HONEYMOON.  ' 

"  Beenah,  hast  thou  heard  aught  about  our  Daniel?  "  There 
was  a  note  of  anxiety  in  old  Hyams\s  voice. 

"Naught,  Mendel." 

"Thou  hast  not  heard  talk  of  him  and  Sugarman's  daughter?" 

"  No,  is  there  aught  between  them  ? "  The  listless  old  woman 
spoke  a  little  eagerly. 

"  Only  that  a  man  told  me  that  his  son  saw  our  Daniel  pay 
court  to  the  maiden." 

"Where?" 
p 


210  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

"At  the  Purim  Ball." 

"  The  man  is  a  fool ;  a  youth  must  dance  with  some  maiden 
or  other/' 

Miriam  came  in,  fagged  out  from  teaching.  Old  Hyams 
dropped  from  Yiddish  into  English. 

"You  are  right,  he  must.'' 

Beenah  replied  in  her  slow  painful  English. 

"  Would  he  not  have  told  us  ? " 

Mendel  repeated  :  — "  Would  he  not  have  told  us?  " 

Each  avoided  the  other's  eye.  Beenah  dragged  herself  about 
the  room,  laying  Miriam's  tea. 

"  Mother,  I  wish  you  wouldn't  scrape  your  feet  along  the  floor 
so.  It  gets  on  my  nerves  and  I  am  so  worn  out.  Would  he  not 
have  told  you  what?      And  who's  he?" 

Beenah  looked  at  her  husband. 

"  I  heard  Daniel  was  engaged,"  said  old  Hyams  jerkily. 

Miriam  started  and  flushed. 

"To  whom?"  she  cried,  in  excitement. 

"Bessie  Sugarman." 

"  Sugarman's  daughter?"     Miriam's  voice  was  pitched  high. 

"  Yes." 

Miriam's  voice  rose  to  a  higher  pitch. 

"Sugarman  the  Shadchaiis  daughter?" 

"Yes." 

Miriam  burst  into  a  fit  of  incredulous  laughter. 

"  As  if  Daniel  would  marry  into  a  miserable  family  like 
that!" 

"  It  is  as  good  as  ours,"  said  Mendel,  with  white  lips. 

His  daughter  looked  at  him  astonished.  "  I  thought  your 
children  had  taught  you  more  self-respect  than  that,"  she  said 
quietly.     "  Mr.  Sugarman  is  a  nice  person  to  be  related  to! " 

"At  home,  Mrs.  Sugarman's  family  was  highly  respected," 
quavered  old  Hyams. 

"  We  are  not  at  home  now,"  said  Miriam  witheringly.  "  We're 
in  England.     A  bad-tempered  old  hag!  " 

"That  is  what  she  thinks  me,"  thought  Mrs.  Hyams.  But  she 
said  nothing. 


THE  H YAMS' S  HONEYMOON.  211 

"  Did  you  not  see  Daniel  with  her  at  the  ball  ? "  said  Mr. 
Hyams,  still  visibly  disquieted. 

"  Pm  sure  I  didn't  notice,^'  Miriam  replied  petulantly.  "  I 
think  you  must  have  forgot  the  sugar,  mother,  or  else  the  tea  is 
viler  than  usual.  Why  don't  you  let  Jane  cut  the  bread  and 
butter  instead  of  lazing  in  the  kitchen? " 

"Jane  has  been  washing  all  day  in  the  scullery/'  said  Mrs. 
Hyams  apologetically. 

"  H'm! "  snapped  Miriam,  her  pretty  face  looking  peevish  and 
careworn.  "Jane  ought  to  have  to  manage  sixty-three  girls 
whose  ignorant  parents  let  them  run  wild  at  home,  and  haven't 
the  least  idea  of  discipline.  As  for  this  chit  of  a  Sugarman, 
don't  you  know  that  Jews  always  engage  every  fellow  and  girl 
that  look  at  each  other  across  the  street,  and  make  fun  of  them 
and  discuss  their  united  prospects  before  they  are  even  intro- 
duced to  each  other." 

She  finished  her  tea,  changed  her  dress  and  went  oiT  to  the 
theatre  with  a  girl-friend.  The  really  harassing  nature  of  her 
work  called  for  some  such  recreation.  Daniel  came  in  a  little 
after  she  had  gone  out,  and  ate  his  supper,  which  was  his  dinner 
saved  for  him  and  warmed  up  in  the  oven.  Mendel  sat  studying 
from  an  unwieldy  folio  which  he  held  on  his  lap  by  the  fireside 
and  bent  over.  When  Daniel  had  done  supper  and  was  standing 
yawning  and  stretching  himself,  Mendel  said  suddenly  as  if  try- 
ing to  bluff  him : 

"  Why  don't  you  ask  your  father  to  wish  you  Mazzoltov  ?  " 

^^ Mazzoltov ?    What  for?"  asked  Daniel  puzzled. 

"  On  your  engagement." 

"My  engagement!"  repeated  Daniel,  his  heart  thumping 
against  his  ribs. 

"  Yes  —  to  Bessie  Sugarman." 

Mendel's  eye,  fixed  scrutinizingly  on  his  boy's  face,  saw  it  pass 
from  white  to  red  and  from  red  to  white.  Daniel  caught  hold  of 
the  mantel  as  if  to  steady  himself. 

"  But  it  is  a  lie!  "  he  cried  hotly.     "  Who  told  you  that? " 

"  No  one  ;  a  man  hinted  as  much." 

"  But  I  haven't  even  been  in  her  company." 


212  CHILDREN  OF  THE    GHETTO. 

"  Yes  —  at  the  Purim  Ball." 

Daniel  bit  his  lip. 

"Damned  gossips!"  he  cried.  "Til  never  speak  to  the  girl 
again." 

There  was  a  tense  silence  for  a  few  seconds,  then  old  Hyams 
said : 

"  Why  not?     You  love  her." 

Daniel  stared  at  him,  his  heart  palpitating  painfully.  The 
blood  in  his  ears  throbbed  mad  sweet  music. 

"  You  love  her,"  Mendel  repeated  quietly.  "  Why  do  you  not 
ask  her  to  marry  you?     Do  you  fear  she  would  refuse? " 

Daniel  burst  into  semi-hysterical  laughter.  Then  seeing  his 
father's  half-repi*oachful,  half-puzzled  look  he  said  shamefacedly : 

"  Forgive  me,  father,  I  really  couldn't  help  it.  The  idea  of  your 
talking  about  love !     The  oddity  of  it  came  over  me  all  of  a  heap." 

"  Why  should  I  not  talk  about  love  ? " 

"  Don't  be  so  comically  serious,  father,"  said  Daniel,  smihng 
afresh.  "What's  come  over  you?  What  have  you  to  do  with 
love?  One  would  think  you  w-ere  a  romantic  young  fool  on  the  * 
stage.  It's  all  nonsense  about  love.  I  don't  love  anybody,  least 
of  all  Bessie  Sugarman,  so  don't  you  go  worrying  your  old  head 
about  ;///  affairs.  You  get  back  to  that  musty  book  of  yours 
there.  I  wonder  if  you've  suddenly  come  across  anything  about 
love  in  tliat,  and  don't  forget  to  use  the  reading  glasses  and  not 
your  ordinary  spectacles,  else  it'll  be  a  sheer  waste  of  money. 
By  the  way,  mother,  remember  to  go  to  the  Eye  Hospital  on 
Saturday  to  be  tested.  I  feel  sure  it's  time  you  had  a  pair  of 
specs,  too." 

"Don't  I  look  old  enough  already?"  thought  Mrs.  Hyams. 
But  she  said,  "  Very  well,  Daniel,"  and  began  to  clear  away  his 
supper. 

"  That's  the  best  of  being  in  the  fancy,"  said  Daniel  cheerfully. 
"There's  no  end  of  articles  you  can  get  at  trade  prices." 

He  sat  for  half  an  hour  turning  over  the  evening  paper,  then 
went  to  bed.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hyams's  eyes  sought  each  other 
involuntarily  but  they  said  nothing.  Mrs.  Hyams  fried  a  piece 
of  Wiirst  for  MiriT.m*s  supper  and  put  it  into  the  oven  to  keep 


THE  H YAMS' S  HONEYMOON.  213 

hot,  then  she  sat  down  opposite  Mendel  to  stitch  on  a  strip  of 
fur,  which  had  got  unripped  on  one  of  Miriam's  jackets.  The 
fire  burnt  briskly,  little  flames  leaped  up  with  a  crackling  sound, 
the  clock  ticked  quietly. 

Beenah  threaded  her  needle  at  the  first  attempt. 

"  I  can  still  see  without  spectacles,"  she  thought  bitterly.  But 
she  said  nothing. 

Mendel  looked  up  furtively  at  her  several  times  from  his  book. 
The  meagreness  of  her  parchment  flesh,  the  thickening  mesh  of 
wrinkles,  the  snow-white  hair  stnjck  him  with  almost  novel 
force.  But  he  said  nothing.  Beenah  patiently  drew  her  needle 
through  and  through  the  fur,  ever  and  anon  glancing  at  Mendel's 
worn  spectacled  face,  the  eyes  deep  in  the  sockets,  the  forehead 
that  was  bent  over  the  folio  furrowed  painfully  beneath  the  black 
Koppel,  the  complexion  sickly.  A  lump  seemed  to  be  rising  in 
her  throat.  She  bent  determinedly  over  her  sewing,  then  sud- 
denly looked  up  again.  This  time  their  eyes  met.  They  did 
not  droop  them ;  a  strange  subtle  flash  seemed  to  pass  from  soul 
to  soul.    They  gazed  at  each  other,  trembling  on  the  brink  of  tears. 

"  Beenah."     The  voice  was  thick  with  suppressed  sobs. 

"Yes,  Mendel." 

"  Thou  hast  heard  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Mendel." 

"  He  says  he  loves  her  not.'*' 

"  So  he  says." 

"  It  is  lies,  Beenah." 

"  But  wherefore  should  he  lie?  " 

"  Thou  askest  with  thy  mouth,  not  thy  heart.  Thou  knowest 
that  he  wishes  us  not  to  think  that  he  remains  single  for  our 
sake.  All  his  money  goes  to  keep  up  this  house  we  live  in.  It 
is  the  law  of  Moses.  Sawest  thou  not  his  face  when  I  spake  of 
Sugarman's  daughter  ? " 

Beenah  rocked  herself  to  and  fro,  crying :  "  My  poor  Daniel, 
my  poor  lamb!  Wait  a  little.  I  shall  die  soon.  The  All-High 
is  merciful.     Wait  a  little." 

Mendel  caught  Miriam's  jacket  which  was  slipping  to  the  floor 
and  laid  it  aside. 


214  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

"  It  helps  not  to  cr}%"  said  he  gently,  longing  to  cry  with  her. 
"  This  cannot  be.  He  must  marry  the  maiden  whom  his  heart 
desires.  Is  it  not  enough  that  he  feels  that  we  have  crippled 
his  life  for  the  sake  of  our  Sabbath  ?  He  never  speaks  of  it,  but 
it  smoulders  in  his  veins." 

"Wait  a  little!  "  moaned  Beenah,  still  rocking  to  and  fro. 

"Nay,  calm  thyself."  He  rose  and  passed  his  horny  hand 
tenderly  over  her  white  hair.  "We  must  not  wait.  Consider 
how  long  Daniel  has  waited." 

"Yes,  my  poor  lamb,  my  poor  lamb!"  sobbed  the  old 
woman. 

"If  Daniel  marries,"  said  the  old  man,  striving  to  speak 
firmly,  "we  have  not  a  penny  to  live  upon.  Our  Miriam 
requires  all  her  salary.  Already  she  gives  us  more  than  she 
can  spare.  She  is  a  lady,  in  a  great  position.  She  must  dress 
finely.  Who  knows,  too,  but  that  w-e  are  in  the  way  of  a 
gentleman  marrying  her?  We  are  not  fit  to  mix  with  high 
people.  But  above  all,  Daniel  must  marry  and  I  must  earn 
your  and  my  living  as  I  did  when  the  children  were  young." 

"  But  what  wilt  thou  do  ? "  said  Beenah,  ceasing  to  cry  and 
looking  up  with  affrighted  face.  "  Thou  canst  not  go  glazier- 
ing.  Think  of  Miriam.  What  canst  thou  do,  what  canst  thou 
do?     Thou  knowest  no  trade!  " 

"  No,  I  know  no  trade,"  he  said  bitterly.  "  At  home,  as  thou 
art  aware,  I  was  a  stone-mason,  but  here  I  could  get  no  work 
without  breaking  the  Sabbath,  and  my  hand  has  forgotten 
its  cunning.  Perhaps  I  shall  get  my  hand  back."  He  took 
hers  in  the  meantime.  It  was  limp  and  chill,  though  so  near 
the  fire.  "  Have  courage,"  he  said.  "  There  is  naught  I  can 
do  here  that  will  not  shame  Miriam.  We  cannot  even  go  into 
an  almshouse  without  shedding  her  blood.  But  the  Holy  One, 
blessed  be  He,  is  good.     I  will  go  away." 

"Go  aw^ay!"  Beenah's  clammy  hand  tightened  her  clasp  of 
his,     "  Thou  wilt  travel  with  ware  in  the  country?" 

"No.  If  it  stands  written  that  I  must  break  with  my  children, 
let  the  gap  be  too  wide  for  repining.  Miriam  will  like  it  better. 
I  will  go  to  America." 


•  THE  H YAMS' S  HONEYMOON.  215 

"To  America!"  Beeiiah's  heartbeat  wildly.  "And  leave 
me?"     A  strange  sense  of  desolation  swept  over  her. 

"Yes  —  for  a  little,  an3diow.  Thou  must  not  face  the  first 
hardships.  I  shall  find  something  to  do.  Perhaps  in  America 
there  are  more  Jewish  stone-masons  to  get  work  from.  God 
will  not  desert  us.  There  I  can  sell  ware  in  the  streets  —  do  as 
I  will.  At  the  worst  I  can  always  fall  back  upon  glaziering. 
Have  faith,  my  dove." 

The  novel  word  of  affection  thrilled  Beenah  through  and 
through. 

"  I  shall  send  thee  a  little  money ;  then  as  soon  as  I  can 
see  my  way  clear  I  shall  send  for  thee  and  thou  shalt  come 
out  to  me  and  we  will  live  happily  together  and  our  children 
shall  live  happily  here." 

But  Beenah  burst  into  fresh  tears. 

"Woe!  Woe!"  she  sobbed.  "  How  wilt  thou,  an  old  man, 
face  the  sea  and  the  strange  faces  all  alone?  See  how  sorely 
thou  art  racked  with  rheumatism.  How  canst  thou  go  glazier- 
ing? Thou  liest  often  groaning  all  the  night.  How  shalt  thou 
carry  the  heavy  crate  on  thy  shoulders?" 

"  God  will  give  me  strength  to  do  what  is  right."  The  tears 
were  plain  enough  in  his  voice  now  and  would  not  be  denied. 
His  words  forced  themselves  out  in  a  husky  wheeze. 

Beenah  threw  her  arms  round  his  neck.  "No!  No!  "she 
cried  hysterically.  "  Thou  shalt  not  go!  Thou  shalt  not  leave 
me!" 

"  I  must  go,"  his  parched  lips  articulated.  He  could  not  see 
that  the  snow  of  her  hair  had  drifted  into  her  eyes  and  was 
scarce  whiter  than  her  cheeks.  His  spectacles  were  a  blur  of 
mist. 

"No,  no,"  she  moaned  incoherently.  "I  shall  die  soon.  God 
is  merciful.  Wait  a  little,  wait  a  little.  He  will  kill  us  both 
soon.  My  poor  lamb,  my  poor  Daniel!  Thou  shalt  not  leave 
me." 

The  old  man  unlaced  her  arms  from  his  neck. 

"  I  must.     I  have  heard  God's  word  in  the  silence." 

"Then  I  will  go  with  thee.     Wherever  thou  goest  I  will  go." 


216  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

"  No,  no  ;  thou  shalt  not  face  the  first  hardships.  I  will  front 
them  alone  ;  I  am  strong,  I  am  a  man." 

"And  thou  hast  the  heart  to  leave  me?"  She  looked  pite- 
ously  into  his  face,  but  hers  was  still  hidden  from  him  in  the 
mist.  But  through  the  darkness  the  flash  passed  again.  His 
hand  groped  for  her  waist,  he  drew  her  again  towards  him  and 
put  the  arms  he  had  unlaced  round  his  neck  and  stooped  his 
wet  cheek  to  hers.  The  past  was  a  void,  the  forty  years  of  joint 
housekeeping,  since  the  morning  each  had  seen  a  strange  face 
on  the  pillow,  faded  to  a  point.  For  fifteen  years  they  had  been 
drifting  towards  each  other,  drifting  nearer,  nearer  in  dual  loneli- 
ness ;  driven  together  by  common  suffering  and  growing  aliena- 
tion from  the  children  they  had  begotten  in  common ;  drifting 
nearer,  nearer  in  silence,  almost  in  unconsciousness.  And  now 
they  had  met.  The  supreme  moment  of  their  lives  had  come. 
The  silence  of  forty  years  was  broken.  His  withered  lips  sought 
hers  and  love  flooded  their  souls  at  last. 

When  the  first  delicious  instants  were  over,  Mendel  drew  a 
chair  to  the  table  and  wrote  a  letter  in.  Hebrew  script  and  posted 
it  and  Beenah  picked  up  Miriam's  jacket.  The  crackling  flames 
had  subsided  to  a  steady  glow,  the  clock  ticked  on  quietly  as 
before,  but  something  new  and  sweet  and  sacred  had  come  into 
her  life,  and  Beenah  no  longer  wished  to  die. 

When  Miriam  came  home,  she  brought  a  little  blast  of  cold 
air  into  the  room.  Beenah  rose  and  shut  the  door  and  put  out 
Miriam's  supper;  she  did  not  drag  her  feet  now. 

"  Was  it  a  nice  play,  Miriam? "  said  Beenah  softly. 

"The  usual  stuff  and  nonsense!"  said  Miriam  peevishly. 
"  Love  and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  as  if  the  wt  rid  never  got  any 
older." 

At  breakfast  next  morning  old  Hyams  received  a  letter  by  the 
first  post.  He  carefully  took  his  spectacles  off  and  donned  his 
reading-glasses  to  read  it,  throwing  the  envelope  carelessly  into 
the  fire.  When  he  had  scanned  a  few  lines  he  uttered  an  excla- 
mation of  surprise  and  dropped  the  letter. 

"What's  the  matter,  father?  "  said  Daniel,  while  Miriam  tilted 
her  snub  nose  curiously. 


THE  H YAMS' S  HONEYMOON.  217 

"Praised  be  God! "  was  all  the  old  man  could  say. 

"Well,  what  is  it?  Speak  I''  said  Beenah,  with  unusual  ani- 
mation, while  a  flush  of  excitement  lit  up  Miriam's  face  and 
made  it  beautiful. 

"  My  brother  in  America  has  won  a  thousand  pounds  on  the 
lotter^^  and  he  invites  me  and  Beenah  to  come  and  live  with 
him." 

"Your  brother  in  America!"  repeated  his  children  staring. 

"  Why,  I  didnH  know  you  had  a  brother  in  America,"  added 
Miriam. 

"  No,  while  he  was  poor,  I  didn't  mention  him,"  replied  Men- 
del, with  unintentional  sarcasm.  "  But  I've  heard  from  him 
several  times.  We  both  came  over  from  Poland  together,  but 
the  Board  of  Guardians  sent  him  and  a  lot  of  others  on  to  New 
York." 

"  But  you  won't  go,  father!  "  said  Daniel. 

"Why  not?  I  should  like  to  see  my  brother  before  I  die. 
We  were  very  thick  as  boys." 

"  But  a  thousand  pounds  isn't  so  very  much,"  Miriam  could 
not  refrain  from  saying. 

Old  Hyams  had  thought  it  boundless  opulence  and  was  now 
sorry  he  had  not  done  his  brother  a  better  turn. 

"It  will  be  enough  for  us  all  to  live  upon,  he  and  Beenah  and 
me.     You  see  his  wife  died  and  he  has  no  children." 

"You  don't  really  mean  to  go?"  gasped  Daniel,  unable  to 
grasp  the  situation  suddenly  sprung  upon  him.  "  How  will  you 
get  the  money  to  travel  with  ?  " 

"Read  here!"  said  Mendel,  quietly  passing  him  the  letter. 
"  He  oifers  to  send  it." 

"  But  it's  written  in  Hebrew!  "  cried  Daniel,  turning  it  upside 
down  hopelessly. 

"  You  can  read  Hebrew  writing  surely,"  said  his  father. 

"  I  could,  years  and  years  ago.  I  remember  you  taught  me 
the  letters.     But  my  Hebrew  correspondence  has  been  so  scanty 

"     He  broke  off  with  a  laugh  and    handed   the   letter  to 

Miriam,  who  surveyed  it  with  mock  comprehension.  There  was 
a  look  of  relief  in  her  eyes  as  she  returned  it  to  her  father. 


218  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

"  He  might  have  sent  something  to  his  nephew  and  his  niece," 
she  said  half  seriously. 

"  Perhaps  he  will  when  I  get  to  America  and  tell  him  how 
pretty  you  are,"  said  Mendel  oracularly.  He  looked  quite  joy- 
ous and  even  ventured  to  pinch  Miriam's  flushed  cheek 
roguishly,  and  she  submitted  to  the  indignity  without  a 
murmur. 

"  Why  jK<??^V^  looking  as  pleased  as  Punch  too,  mother,"  said 
Daniel,  in  half-rueful  amazement.  "  You  seem  delighted  at  the 
idea  of  leaving  us." 

"  I  always  wanted  to  see  America,"  the  old  woman  admitted 
with  a  smile.  "  I  also  shall  renew  an  old  friendship  in  New 
York."  She  looked  meaningly  at  her  husband,  and  in  his  eye 
was  an  answering  love-light. 

"Well,  that's  cool!"  Daniel  burst  forth.  "But  she  doesn't 
mean  it,  does  she,  father?  " 

"  I  mean  it,"  Hymas  answered. 

"  But  it  can't  be  true,"  persisted  Daniel,  in  ever-growing  be- 
wilderment.    "  I  believe  it's  all  a  hoax." 

Mendel  hastily  drained  his  coffee-cup. 

"  A  hoax!  "  he  murmured,  from  behind  the  cup. 

"  Yes,  I  believe  some  one  is  having  a  lark  with  you." 

"  Nonsense  !  "  cried  Mendel  vehemently,  as  he  put  down  his 
coffee-cup  and  picked  up  the  letter  from  the  table.  "  Don't  I 
know  my  own  brother  Yankov's  writing.  Besides,  who  else 
would  know  all  the  little  things  he  writes  about? " 

Daniel  was  silenced,  but  lingered  on  after  Miriam  had  departed 
to  her  wearisome  duties. 

"  I  shall  write  at  once,  accepting  Yankov's  offer,"  said  his 
father.  "  Fortunately  we  took  the  house  by  the  week,  so  you 
can  always  move  out  if  it  is  too  large  for  you  and  Miriam.  I 
can  trust  you  to  look  after  Miriam,  I  know,  Daniel."  Daniel  ex- 
postulated yet  further,  but  Mendel  answered : 

"He  is  so  lonely.  He  cannot  well  come  over  here  by  him- 
self because  he  is  half  paralyzed.  After  all,  what  have  I  to  do 
in  England?  And  the  mother  naturally  does  not  care  to  leave 
me.     Perhaps  I  shall  get  my  brother  to  travel  with  me  to  the 


THE  HYAMS'S  HONEYMOON.  219 

land  of  Israel,  and  then  we  shall  all  end  our  days  in  Jerusalem, 
which  you  know  has  always  been  my  heart's  desire.'" 

Neither  mentioned  Bessie  Sugarman. 

"  Why  do  you  make  so  much  bother?"  Miriam  said  to  Daniel 
in  the  evening.  "  It's  the  best  thing  that  could  have  happened. 
Who'd  have  dreamed  at  this  hour  of  the  day  of  coming  into 
possession  of  a  relative  who  might  actually  have  something  to 
leave  us.     It'll  be  a  good  story  to  tell,  too." 

After  Shool  next  morning  Mendel  spoke  to  the  President. 

"Can  you  lend  me  six  pounds?  "  he  asked. 

Belcovitch  staggered. 

"  Six  pounds!  "  he  repeated,  dazed. 

"  Yes.  I  wish  to  go  to  America  with  my  wife.  And  I  want 
you  moreover  to  give  your  hand  as  a  countryman  that  you  will 
not  breathe  a  word  of  this,  whatever  you  hear.  Beenah  and  I 
have  sold  a  few  little  trinkets  which  our  childien  gave  us,  and 
we  have  reckoned  that  with  six  pounds  more  we  shall  be  able  to 
take  steerage  passages  and  just  exist  till  I  get  work." 

"  But  six  pounds  is  a  very  great  sum  —  without  sureties,"  said 
Belcovitch,  rubbing  his  time-worn  workaday  high  hat  in  his 
agitation. 

"  I  know  it  is!"  answered  Mendel,  "but  God  is  my  witness 
that  I  mean  to  pay  you.  And  if  I  die  before  1  can  do  so  I  vow 
to  send  word  to  my  son  Daniel,  who  will  pay  you  the  balance. 
You  know  my  son  Daniel.     His  word  is  an  oath." 

"  But  where  shall  I  get  six  pounds  from  ? "  said  Bear  helplessly. 
"I  am  only  a  poor  tailor,  and  my  daughter  gets  married  soon. 
It  is  a  great  sum.  By  my  honorable  word,  it  is.  I  have  never 
lent  so  much  in  my  life,  nor  even  been  security  for  such  an 
amount." 

Mendel  dropped  his  head.  There  was  a  moment  of  anxious 
silence.     Bear  thought  deeply. 

"  I  tell  you  what  I'll  do,"  said  Bear  at  last.  "  I'll  lend  you  five 
if  you  can  manage  to  come  out  with  that." 

Mendel  gave  a  great  sigh  of  relief.  "  God  shall  bless  you," 
he  said.  He  wrung  the  sweater's  hand  passionately.  "  I  dare 
say  we  shall  find  another  sovereign's-worth  to  sell."     Mendel 


220  CHILDREN  OF    THE    GHETTO. 

clinched  the  borrowing  by  standing  the  lender  a  glass  of  rum, 
and  Bear  felt  secure  against  the  graver  shocks  of  doom.  If  the 
Avorst  come  to  the  worst  now,  he  had  still  had  something  for  his 
money. 

And  so  Mendel  and  Beenah  sailed  away  over  the  Atlantic. 
Daniel  accompanied  them  to  Liverpool,  but  Miriam  said  she 
could  not  get  a  day's  holiday  —  perhaps  she  remembered  the  re- 
buke Esther  Ansell  had  drawn  down  on  herself,  and  was  chary 
of  asking. 

At  the  dock  in  the  chill  dawn,  Mendel  Hyams  kissed  his  son 
Daniel  on  the  forehead  and  said  in  a  broken  voice  : 

"Good-bye.  God  bless  you.''  He  dared  not  add  and  God 
bless  your  Bessie,  my  daughter-in-law  to  be  ;  but  the  benediction 
was  in  his  heart. 

Daniel  turned  away  heavy-hearted,  but  the  old  man  touched 
him  on  the  shoulder  and  said  in  a  low  tremulous  voice : 

"  Won't  you  forgive  me  for  putting  you  into  the  fancy  goods?  " 

"  Father!  What  do  you  mean ?  "  said  Daniel  choking.  "  Surely 
you  are  not  thinking  of  the  wild  words  I  spoke  years  and  years 
ago.     I  have  long  forgotten  them." 

"  Then  you  will  remain  a  good  Jew,"  said  Mendel,  trembling 
all  over,  "  even  when  we  are  far  away  ? " 

"With  God's  help,"  said  Daniel.  And  then  Mendel  turned  to 
Beenah  and  kissed  her,  weeping,  and  the  faces  of  the  old  couple 
were  radiant  behind  their  tears. 

Daniel  stood  on  the  clamorous  hustling  wharf,  watching  the 
ship  move  slowly  from  her  moorings  towards  the  open  river,  and 
neither  he  nor  any  one  in  the  world  but  the  happy  pair  knew 
that  Mendel  and  Beenah  were  on  their  honeymoon. 

********** 

Mrs.  Hyams  died  two  years  after  her  honeymoon,  and  old 
Hyams  laid  a  lover's  kiss  upon  her  sealed  eyelids.  Then,  being 
absolutely  alone  in  the  world,  he  sold  oflf  his  scanty  furniture, 
sent  the  balance  of  the  debt  with  a  sovereign  of  undemanded 
interest  to  Bear  Belcovitch,  and  girded  up  his  loins  for  the  jour- 
ney to  Jerusalem,  which  had  been,  the  dream  of  his  life. 

But  the  dream  of  his  life  had  better  have  remained  a  dream 


THE  HEBREW'S  FRIDAY  NIGHT.  221 

Mendel  saw  the  hills  of  Palestine  and  the  holy  Jordan  and 
Mount  Moriah,  the  site  of  the  Temple,  and  the  tombs  of  Absa- 
lom and  Melchitsedek,  and  the  gate  of  Zion  and  the  aqueduct 
built  by  Solomon,  and  all  that  he  had  longed  to  see  from  boy- 
hood. But  somehow  it  was  not  his  Jerusalem  —  scarce  more 
than  his  London  Ghetto  transplanted,  only  grown  filthier  and 
narrower  and  more  ragged,  with  cripples  for  beggars  and  lepers 
in  lieu  of  hawkers.  The  magic  of  his  dream-city  was  not  here. 
This  was  something  prosaic,  almost  sordid.  It  made  his  heart 
sink  as  he  thought  of  the  sacred  splendors  of  the  Zion  he  had 
imaged  in  his  suffering  soul.  The  rainbows  builded  of  his  bitter 
tears  did  not  span  the  firmament  of  this  dingy  Eastern  city,  set 
amid  sterile  hills.  Where  were  the  roses  and  lilies,  the  cedars 
and  the  fountains  ?  Mount  Moriah  was  here  indeed,  but  it  bore 
the  Mosque  of  Omar,  and  the  Temple  of  Jehovah  was  but  one 
ruined  wall.  The  Shechinah,  the  Divine  Glory,  had  faded  into 
cold  sunshine.  "  Who  shall  go  up  into  the  Mount  of  Jehovah." 
Lo,  the  Moslem  worshipper  and  the  Christian  tourist.  Barracks 
and  convents  stood  on  Zion's  hill.  His  brethren,  loilers  by 
divine  right  of  the  soil  they  trod,  were  lost  in  the  chaos  of  pop- 
ulations—  Syrians,  Armenians,  Turks,  Copts,  Abyssinians,  Euro- 
peans—  as  their  synagogues  were  lost  amid  the  domes  and 
minarets  of  the  Gentiles.  The  city  was  full  of  venerated  relics 
of  the  Christ  his  people  had  lived  —  and  died  —  to  deny,  and 
over  all  flew  the  crescent  flag  of  the  Mussulman. 

And  so  every  Friday,  heedless  of  scofiing  on-lookers,  Mendel 
Hyams  kissed  the  stones  of  the  Wailing  Place,  bedewing  their 
barrenness  with  tears ;  and  every  year  at  Passover,  until  he  was 
gathered  to  his  fathers,  he  continued  to  pray  :  "  Next  year  — •  in 
Jerusalem !  " 

CHAPTER   XVIII. 

THE   HEBREW'S   FRIDAY   NIGHT. 

"Ah,  the  Men-of-the-Earth !  "  said  Pinchas  to  Reb  Shemuel, 
"  ignorant  fanatics,  how  shall  a  movement  prosper  in  their 
hands?     They  have    not  the  poetic  vision,  their  ideas   are   as 


222  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

the  mole^s ;  they  wish  to  make  Messiahs  out  of  half-pence. 
What  inspiration  for  the  soul  is  there  in  the  sight  of  snuiTy 
collectors  that  have  the  air  of  ScJmorrers  ?  with  Karlkammer's 
red  hair  for  a  flag  and  the  sound  of  Gradkoski\s  nose  blowing 
for  a  trumpet-peal.  But  I  have  written  an  acrostic  against 
Guedalyah  the  greengrocer,  virulent  as  serpent's  gall.  He  the 
Redeemer,  indeed,  with  his  diseased  potatoes  and  his  flat  ginger- 
beer  !  Not  thus  did  the  great  prophets  and  teachers  in  Israel 
figure  the  Return.  Let  a  great  signal-fire  be  lit  in  Israel  and  lo! 
the  beacons  will  leap  up  on  every  mountain  and  tongue  of  flame 
shall  call  to  tongue.  Yea,  I,  even  I,  Melchitsedek  Pinchas,  will 
light  the  fire  forthwith." 

"Nay,  not  to-day,""  said  Reb  Shemuel,  with  his  humorous 
twinkle  ;  "  it  is  the  Sabbath."' 

The  Rabbi  was  returning  from  synagogue  and  Pinchas  was 
giving  him  his  company  on  the  short  homeward  journey.  At 
their  heels  trudged  Levi  and  on  the  other  side  of  Reb  Shemuel 
walked  Eliphaz  Chowchoski,  a  miserable-looking  Pole  whom 
Reb  Shemuel  was  taking  home  to  supper.  In  those  days  Reb 
Shemuel  was  not  alone  in  taking  to  his  hearth  "  the  Sabbath 
guest"  —  some  forlorn  starveling  or  other  —  to  sit  at  the  table  in 
like  honor  with  the  master.  It  was  an  object  lesson  in  equality 
and  fraternity  for  the  children  of  many  a  well-to-do  household, 
nor  did  it  fail  altogether  in  the  homes  of  the  poor.  "All  Israel 
are  brothers,"  and  how  better  honor  the  Sabbath  than  by  mak- 
ing the  lip-babble  a  reality  ? 

"  You  will  speak  to  your  daughter?"  said  Pinchas,  changing 
the  subject  abruptly.  "  You  will  tell  her  that  what  I  wrote  to  her 
is  not  a  millionth  part  of  what  I  feel — that  she  is  my  sun  by 
day  and  my  moon  and  stars  by  night,  that  I  must  marry  her  at 
once  or  die,  that  I  think  of  nothing  in  the  world  but  her,  that  I 
can  do,  write,  plan,  nothing  without  her,  that  once  she  smiles 
on  me  I  will  write  her  great  love-poems,  greater  than  Byron's, 
greater  than  Heine's  —  the  real  Song  of  Songs,  which  is  Pinchas's 
—  that  I  will  make  her  immortal  as  Dante  made  Beatrice,  as  Pe- 
trarch made  Laura,  that  I  walk  about  wretched,  bedewing  the 
pavements  with  my  tears,  that  I  sleep  not  by  night  nor  eat  by 


THE  HEBREW'S  FRIDAY  NIGHT.  223 

day  —  you  will  tell  her  this  ? "  He  laid  his  finger  pleadingly  on 
his  nose. 

"  I  will  tell  her,'''  said  Reb  Shemuel.  "  You  are  a  son-in-law 
to  gladden  the  heart  of  any  man.  But  I  fear  the  maiden  looks 
but  coldly  on  wooers.  Besides  you  are  fourteen  years  older  than 
she." 

"  Then  I  love  her  twice  as  much  as  Jacob  loved  Rachel  —  for 
it  is  written  '  seven  years  were  but  as  a  day  in  his  love  for  her/ 
To  me  fourteen  years  are  but  as  a  day  in  my  love  for  Hannah." 

The  Rabbi  laughed  at  the  quibble  and  said : 

"  You  are  like  the  man  who  when  he  was  accused  of  being 
twenty  years  older  than  the  maiden  he  desired,  replied '  but  when 
I  look  at  her  I  shall  become  ten  years  younger,  and  when  she 
looks  at  me  she  will  become  ten  years  older,  and  thus  we  shall  be 
even.'" 

Pinchas  laughed  enthusiastically  in  his  turn,  but  replied : 

"  Surely  you  will  plead  my  cause,  you  whose  motto  is  the  He- 
brew saying  —  ^the  husband  help  the  housewife,  God  help  the 
bachelor.'  " 

"  But  have  you  the  wherewithal  to  support  her? " 

"Shall  my  writings  not  suffice?  If  there  are  none  to  protect 
literature  in  England,  we  will  go  abroad  —  to  your  birthplace, 
Reb  Shemuel,  the  cradle  of  great  scholars." 

The  poet  spoke  yet  more,  but  in  the  end  his  excited  stridulous 
accents  fell  on  Reb  Shemuel's  ears  as  a  storm  without  on  the 
ears  of  the  slippered  reader  by  the  fireside.  He  had  dropped 
into  a  delicious  reverie  —  tasting  in  advance  the  Sabbath  peace. 
The  work  of  the  week  was  over.  The  faithful  Jew  could  enter 
on  his  rest  —  the  narrow,  miry  streets  faded  before  the  brighter 
image  of  his  brain.  "  Come.,  7ny  beloved.,  to  meet  the  Bridey  the 
face  of  the  Sabbath  let  21s  welcome.'''' 

To-night  his  sweetheart  would  wear  her  Sabbath  face,  putting 
off  the  mask  of  the  shrew,  which  hid  not  from  him  the  angel 
countenance.  To-night  he  could  in  very  truth  call  his  wife  (as 
the  Rabbi  in  the  Talmud  did)  "  not  wife,  but  home."  To-night 
she  would  be  in  very  truth  Sif/icha  —  rejoicing.  A  cheerful 
warmth  glowed  at  his  heart,  love  for  all  the  wonderful  Creation 


224  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

dissolved  him  in  tenderness.  As  he  approached  the  door,  cheer- 
ful hghts  gleamed  on  him  like  a  heavenly  smile.  He  invited 
Pinchas  to  enter,  but  the  poet  in  view  of  his  passion  thought  it 
prudent  to  let  others  plead  for  him  and  went  off  with  his  finger 
to  his  nose  in  final  reminder.  The  Reb  kissed  the  Mezuzah  on 
the  outside  of  the  door  and  his  daughter,  who  met  him,  on  the 
inside.  Everything  was  as  he  had  pictured  it  —  the  two  tall  wax 
candles  in  quaint  heavy  silver  candlesticks,  the  spotless  table- 
cloth, the  dish  of  fried  fish  made  picturesque  with  sprigs  of  pars- 
ley, the  Sabbath  loaves  shaped  like  boys'  tip-cats,  with  a  curious 
plait  of  crust  from  point  to  point  and  thickly  sprinkled  with  a 
drift  of  poppy-seed,  and  covered  with  a  velvet  cloth  embroidered 
with  Hebrew  words;  the  flask  of  wine  and  the  silver  goblet. 
The  sight  was  familiar  yet  it  always  struck  the  simple  old  Reb 
anew,  with  a  sense  of  special  blessing. 

"Good  Shabbos^  Simcha,"  said  Reb  Shemuel. 

"Good  Shabbos,  Shemuel,"  said  Simcha.  The  light  of  love 
was  in  her  eyes,  and  in  her  hair  her  newest  comb.  Her  sharp 
features  shone  with  peace  and  good-will  and  the  consciousness 
of  having  duly  lit  the  Sabbath  candles  and  thrown  the  morsel  of 
dough  into  the  fire.  Shemuel  kissed  her,  then  he  laid  his  hands 
upon  Hannah's  head  and  murmured  : 

"  May  God  make  thee  as  Sarah,  Rebecca,  Rachel,  and  Leah," 
and  upon  Levi's,  murmuring  :  "  May  God  make  thee  as  Ephraim 
and  Manasseh." 

Even  the  callous  Levi  felt  the  breath  of  sanctity  in  the  air  and 
had  a  vague  restful  sense  of  his  Sabbath  Angel  hovering  about 
and  causing  him  to  cast  two  shadows  on  the  wall  while  his  Evil 
Angel  shivered  impotent  on  the  door-step. 

Then  Reb  Shemuel  repeated  three  times  a  series  of  sentences 
commencing :  "  Peace  be  unto  you,  ye  iniiiistering  Angels,''''  and 
thereupon  the  wonderful  picture  of  an  ideal  woman  from  Prov- 
erbs, looking  affectionately  at  Simcha  the  while.  "A  woman 
of  worth,  whoso  findeth  her,  her  price  is  far  above  rubies.  The 
heart  of  her  husband  trusteth  in  her ;  good  and  not  evil  will  she 
do  him  all  the  days  of  her  life ;  she  riseth,  while  it  is  yet  night, 
giveth  food  to  her  household  and  a  task  to  her  maidens.     She 


THE   HEBREW'S  FRIDAY  NIGHT.  225 

putteth  her  own  hands  to  the  spindle ;  she  stretcheth  out  her 
hand  to  the  poor  —  strength  and  honor  are  her  clothing  and  she 
looketh  forth  smilingly  to  the  morrow ;  she  openeth  her  mouth 
with  wisdom  and  the  law  of  kindness  is  on  her  tongue  —  she 
looketh  well  to  the  ways  of  her  household  and  eateth  not  the 
bread  of  idleness.  Deceitful  is  favor  and  vain  is  beauty,  but  the 
woman  that  feareth  the  Lord,  she  shall  be  praised.'" 

Then,  washing  his  hands  with  the  due  benediction,  he  filled 
the  goblet  with  wine,  and  while  every  one  reverently  stood 
he  "  made  Kiddish,'"  in  a  traditional  joyous  recitative  ".  .  . 
blessed  art  thou,  O  Lord,  our  God !  King  of  the  Universe,  Cre- 
ator of  the  fruit  of  the  vine,  who  doth  sanctify  us  with  His  com- 
mandments and  hath  delight  in  us.  .  .  .  Thou  hast  chosen  and 
sanctified  us  above  all  peoples  and  with  love  and  favor  hast 
made  us  to  inherit  Thy  holy  Sabbath.   .   .  .■" 

And  all  the  household,  and  the  hungry  Pole,  answered 
"  Amen,"  each  sipping  of  the  cup  in  due  gradation,  then  eating 
a  special  morsel  of  bread  cut  by  the  father  and  dipped  in  salt ; 
after  which  the  good  wife  served  the  fish,  and  cups  and  saucers 
clattered  and  knives  and  forks  rattled.  And  after  a  few  mouth- 
fuls,  the  Pole  knew  himself  a  Prince  in  Israel  and  felt  he  must 
forthwith  make  choice  of  a  maiden  to  grace  his  royal  Sabbath 
board.  Soup  followed  the  fish  ;  it  was  not  served  direct  from 
the  saucepan  but  transferred  by  way  of  a  large  tureen ;  since  any 
creeping  thing  that  might  have  got  into  the  soup  would  have 
rendered  the  plateful  in  which  it  appeared  not  legally  potable, 
whereas  if  it  were  detected  in  the  large  tureen,  its  polluting 
powers  would  be  dissipated  by  being  diffused  over  such  a  large 
mass  of  fluid.  For  like  religious  reasons,  another  feature  of  the 
etiquette  of  the  modern  fashionable  table  had  been  anticipated 
by  many  centuries  —  the  eaters  washed  their  hands  in  a  little 
bowl  of  water  after  their  meal.  The  Pollack  was  thus  kept  by 
main  religious  force  in  touch  with  a  liquid  with  which  he  had  no 
external  sympathy. 

When  supper  was  over,  grace  was  chanted  and  then  the  Zoni- 
roth  was  sung — songs  summing  up  in  light  and  jingling  metre 
the  very  essence  of  holy  joyousness  —  neither  riotous  nor  ascetic 
Q 


226  CHILDREN  OF  THE    GHETTO. 

—  the  note  of  spiritualized  common  sense  which  has  been  the 
key-note  of  historical  Judaism.  For  to  feel  "  the  delight  of 
Sabbath  "  is  a  duty  and  to  take  three  meals  thereon  a  religious 
obligation  —  the  sanctification  of  the  sensuous  bv  a  creed  to 
which  everything  is  holy.  The  Sabbath  is  the  hub  of  the  Jew's 
universe ;  to  protract  it  is  a  virtue,  to  love  it  a  liberal  education. 
It  cancels  all  mourning — even  for  Jerusalem.  The  candles  may 
gutter  out  at  their  own  greasy  will  —  unsnufFed,  untended —  is 
not  Sabbath  its  own  self-sufficient  light? 

This  is  the  sanctified  rest-day ; 
Happy  the  man  who  observes  it, 
Thinks  of  it  over  the  wine-cup, 
Feeling  no  pang  at  his  heart-strings 
For  that  his  purse-strings  are  empty, 
Joyous,  and  if  he  must  borrow 
God  will  repay  the  good  lender, 
Meat,  wine  and  fish  in  profusion  — 
See  no  delight  is  deficient. 
Let  but  the  table  be  spread  well. 
Angels  of  God  answer  "  Amen  !  " 
So  when  a  soul  is  in  dolor, 
Cometh  the  sweet  restful  Sabbath, 
Singing  and  joy  in  its  footsteps. 
Rapidly  floweth  Sambatyon, 
Till  that,  of  God's  love  the  symbol, 
Sabbath,  the  holy,  the  peaceful, 
Husheth  its  turbulent  waters. 
******** 
Bless  Him,  O  constant  companions. 
Rock  from  whose  stores  we  have  eaten, 
Eaten  have  we  and  have  left,  too, 
Just  as  the  Lord  hath  commanded 
Father  and  Shepherd  and  Feeder. 
His  is  the  bread  we  have  eaten. 
His  is  the  wine  we  have  drunken, 
Wherefore  with  lips  let  us  praise  Him, 
Lord  of  the  land  of  our  fathers, 
Gratefully,  ceaselessly  chaunting 
"  None  like  Jehovah  is  holy." 

Light  and  rejoicing  to  Israel, 
Sabbath,  the  soother  of  sorrows, 


THE  HEBREW'S  FRIDAY  NIGHT.  227 

Comfort  of  down-trodden  Israel, 
Healing  the  hearts  that  were  broken  ! 
Banish  despair!     Here  is  Hope  come, 
What !     A  soul  crushed  !     Lo  a  stranger 
Bringeth  the  balsamous  Sabbath. 
Build,  O  rebuild  thou,  Thy  Temple, 
Fill  again  Zion,  Thy  city, 
Clad  with  delight  will  we  go  there. 
Other  and  new  songs  to  sing  there, 
Merciful  One  and  All-Holy, 
Praised  for  ever  and  ever. 

During  the  meal  the  Pollack  began  to  speak  with  his  host 
about  the  persecution  in  the  land  whence  he  had  come,  the 
bright  spot  in  his  picture  being  the  fidelity  of  his  brethren  under 
trial,  only  a  minority  deserting  and  those  already  tainted  with 
Epicureanism  —  students  wishful  of  University  distinction  and 
such  like.  Orthodox  Jews  are  rather  surprised  when  men  of 
(secular)  education  remain  in  the  fold. 

Hannah  took  advantage  of  a  pause  in  their  conversation  to 
say  in  German : 

"I  am  so  glad,  father,  thou  didst  not  bring  that  man  home." 

"  What  man?  '^  said  Reb  Shemuel. 

"The  dirty  monkey-faced  little  man  who  talks  so  much." 

The  Reb  considered. 

''  I  know  none  such." 

"  Pinchas  she  means,"  said  her  mother.     "  The  poet!  " 

Reb  Shemuel  looked  at  her  gravely.  This  did  not  sound 
promising. 

"Why  dost  thou  speak  so  harshly  of  thy  fellow-creatures?" 
he  said.  "  The  man  is  a  scholar  and  a  poet,  such  as  we  have 
too  few  in  Israel." 

"  We  have  too  many  Schnorrers  in  Israel  already,"  retorted 
Hannah. 

"Sh!"  whispered  Reb  Shemuel  reddening  and  indicating  his 
guest  with  a  slight  movement  of  the  eye. 

Hannah  bit  her  lip  in  self-humiliation  and  hastened  to  load 
the  lucky  Pole's  plate  with  an  extra  piece  of  fish. 

"  He  has  written  me  a  letter,"  she  went  on. 


228  CHILDREN  OF  THE    GHETTO. 

"  He  has  told  me  so,"  he  answered.  '■'  He  loves  thee  with  a 
great  love." 

"  What  nonsense,  Shemuel ! ''  broke  in  Simcha,  setting  down 
her  coffee-cup  with  work-a-day  violence.  "The  idea  of  a  man 
who  has  not  a  penny  to  bless  himself  with  marrying  our  Hannah! 
They  would  be  on  the  Board  of  Guardians  in  a  month." 

"  Money  is  not  everything.  Wisdom  and  learning  outweigh 
much.  And  as  the  Midrash  says:  'As  a  scarlet  ribbon  be- 
cometh  a  black  horse,  so  poverty  becometh  the  daughter  of 
Jacob.'  The  world  stands  on  the  Torah,  not  on  gold;  as  it  is 
written  :  '  Better  is  the  Law  of  Thy  mouth  to  me  than  thou- 
sands of  gold  or  silver.'  He  is  greater  than  I,  for  he  studies  the 
law  for  nothing  like  the  fathers  of  the  Mishna  while  I  am  paid 
a  salary." 

"  Alethinks  thou  art  little  inferior,"  said  Simcha,  "  for  thou 
retainest  little  enough  thereof  Let  Pinchas  get  nothing  for 
himself,  'tis  his  affair,  but,  if  he  wants  my  Hannah,  he  must  get 
something  for  her.  Were  the  fathers  of  the  Mishna  also  fathers 
of  families  ?  " 

"  Certainly  ;  is  it  not  a  command  — '  Be  fruitful  and  multiply '  ? " 

"And  how  did  their  families  live?" 

"Many  of  our  sages  were  artisans." 

"Ahal"  snorted  Simcha  triumphantly. 

"  And  says  not  the  Talmud,"  put  in  the  Pole  as  if  he  were  on 
the  family  council,  " '  Flay  a  carcass  in  the  streets  rather  than  be 
under  an  obligation '?  "  This  with  supreme  unconsciousness  of 
any  personal  application.  "Yea,  and  said  not  Rabban  Gam- 
liel,  the  son  of  Rabbi  Judah  the  Prince,  Mt  is  commendable  to 
join  the  study  of  the  Law  with  worldly  employment*?  Did  not 
Moses  our  teacher  keep  sheep?"' 

"  Truth,"  replied  the  host.  "  I  agree  with  Maimonides  that 
man  should  first  secure  a  living,  then  prepare  a  residence  and 
after  that  seek  a  wife;  and  that  they  are  fools  who  invert  the 
order.  But  Pinchas  works  also  with  his  pen.  He  writes 
articles  in  the  papers.  But  the  great  thing,  Hannah,  is  that 
he  loves  the  Law." 

"  H"m  I  "  said  Hannah.     "Let  him  marry  the  Law,  then." 


THE  HEBREW'S  FRIDAY  NIGHT.  229 

"  He  is  in  a  hurry,"  said  Reb  Shemuel  with  a  flash  of  irrever- 
ent facetiousness.  ''And  he  cannot  become  the  Bridegroom  of 
the  Law  till  Simchath  Tor  all.'''' 

All  laughed.  The  Bridegroom  of  the  Law  is  the  temporary 
title  of  the  Jew  who  enjoys  the  distinction  of  being  "called  up" 
to  the  public  reading  of  the  last  fragment  of  the  Pentateuch, 
which  is  got  through  once  a  year. 

Under  the  encouragement  of  the  laughter,  the  Rabbi  added : 

"  But  he  will  know  much  more  of  his  Bride  than  the  majority 
of  the  Law's  Bridegrooms." 

Hannah  took  advantage  of  her  father's  pleasure  in  the  effect 
of  his  jokes  to  show  him  Pinchas's  epistle,  which  he  deciphered 
laboriously.     It  commenced : 

Hebrew  Hebe 
All-fair  Maid, 
Next  to  Heaven 
Nightly  laid 
Ah,  I  love  you 
Half  afraid. 

The  Pole,  looking  a  different  being  from  the  wretch  who  had 
come  empty,  departed  invoking  Peace  on  the  household  ;  Simcha 
went  into  the  kitchen  to  superintend  the  removal  of  the  crockery 
thither ;  Levi  slipped  out  to  pay  his  respects  to  Esther  Ansell, 
for  the  evening  was  yet  young,  and  father  and  daughter  were 
left  alone. 

Reb  Shemuel  was  already  poring  over  a  Pentateuch  in  his 
Friday  night  duty  of  reading  the  Portion  twice  in  Hebrew  and 
once  in  Chaldaic. 

Hannah  sat  opposite  him,  studying  the  kindly  furrowed  face, 
the  massive  head  set  on  rounded  shoulders,  the  shaggy  eye- 
brows, the  long  whitening  beard  moving  with  the  mumble  of 
the  pious  Hps,  the  brown  peering  eyes  held  close  to  the  sacred 
tome,  the  high  forehead  crowned  with  the  black  skullcap. 

She  felt  a  moisture  gathering  under  her  eyelids  as  she  looked 
at  him. 

"•Father,"  she  said  at  last,  in  a  gentle  voice. 


230  CHILDREN  OF  THE    GHETTO. 

"  Did  you  call  me,  Hannah  ? "  he  asked,  looking  up. 

"Yes,  dear.     About  this  man,  Pinchas." 

"Yes,  Hannah.'' 

"  I  am  sorry  I  spoke  harshly  of  him." 

"  Ah,  that  is  right,  my  daughter.  If  he  is  poor  and  ill-clad  we 
must  only  honor  him  the  more.  Wisdom  and  learning  must  be 
respected  if  they  appear  in  rags.  Abraham  entertained  God's 
messengers  though  they  came  as  weary  travellers.'" 

"  I  know,  father.  It  is  not  because  of  his  appearance  that  I 
do  not  like  him.  If  he  is  really  a  scholar  and  a  poet,  I  will  try 
to  admire  him  as  you  do." 

"Now  you  speak  like  a  true  daughter  of  Israel." 

"  But  about  my  marrying  him  —  you  are  not  really  in  earnest?" 

"//(?  is,"  said  Reb  Shemuel.  evasively. 

"  Ah,  I  knew  you  were  not,"  she  said,  catching  the  lurking 
twinkle  in  his  eye.  "You  know  I  could  never  marry  a  man  like 
that." 

"Your  mother  could,"  said  the  Reb. 

"  Dear  old  goose,"  she  said,  leaning  across  to  pull  his  beard. 
"You  are  not  a  bit  like  that  — you  know  a  thousand  times  more, 
you  know  you  do." 

The  old  Rabbi  held  up  his  hands  in  comic  deprecation. 

"  Yes,  you  do,"  she  persisted.  "  Only  you  let  him  talk  so 
much ;  you  let  everybody  talk  and  bamboozle  you." 

Reb  Shemuel  drew  the  hand  that  fondled  his  beard  in  his 
own,  feeling  tlie  fresh  warm  skin  with  a  puzzled  look. 

"  The  hands  are  the  hands  of  Hannah,"  he  said,  "  but  the 
voice  is  the  voice  of  Simcha." 

Hannah  laughed  merrily. 

"All  right,  dear,  I  won't  scold  you  any  more.  Pm  so  glad  it 
didn't  really  enter  your  great  stupid,  clever  old  head  that  I  was 
likely  to  care  for  Pinchas." 

"  My  dear  daughter,  Pinchas  wished  to  take  you  to  wife, 
and  1  felt  pleased.  It  is  a  union  with  a  son  of  the  Torah,  who 
has  also  the  pen  of  a  ready  writer.  He  asked  me  to  tell  you  and 
I  did." 

"  But  you  would  not  like  me  to  marry  any  one  I  did  not  like." 


THE  HEBREW'S  FRIDAY  NIGHT.  231 

"  God  forbid !  My  little  Hannah  shall  marry  whomever  she 
pleases." 

A  wave  of  emotion  passed  over  the  girPs  face. 

"  You  don't  mean  that,  father,"  she  said,  shaking  her  head. 

"True  as  the  Torah!     Why  should  I  not?" 

"  Suppose,"  she  said  slowly,  "  I  wanted  to  marry  a  Christian?" 

Her  heart  beat  painfully  as  she  put  the  question. 

Reb  Shemuel  laughed  heartily. 

"  My  Hannah  would  have  made  a  good  Talmudist.  Of  course, 
I  don't  mean  it  in  that  sense." 

"Yes,  but  if  I  was  to  marry  a  very  link  Jew,  you'd  think  it 
almost  as  bad." 

"No,  no!"  said  the  Reb,  shaking  his  head.  "  That's  a  dif- 
ferent thing  altogether;  a  Jew  is  a  Jew,  and  a  Christian  a 
Christian." 

"  But  you  can't  always  distinguish  between  them,''  argued 
Hannah.  "There  are  Jews  who  behave  as  if  they  were  Chris- 
tians, except,  of  course,  they  don't  believe  in  the  Crucified 
One." 

Still  the  old  Reb  shook  his  head. 

"The  worst  of  Jews  cannot  put  off  his  Judaism.  His  unborn 
soul  undertook  the  yoke  of  the  Torah  at  Sinai." 

"Then  you  really  wouldn't  mind  if  I  married  a  link  Jew!  " 

He  looked  at  her,  startled,  a  suspicion  dawning  in  his  eyes. 

"  I  should  mind,"  he  said  slowly.  "  But  if  you  loved  him  he 
would  become  a  good  Jew." 

The  simple  conviction  of  his  words  moved  her  to  tears,  but  she 
kept  them  back. 

"But  if  he  wouldn't?" 

"  I  should  pray.  While  there  is  life  there  is  hope  for  the 
sinner  in  Israel." 

She  fell  back  on  her  old  question. 

"  And  you  would  really  not  mind  whom  I  married  ? " 

" Follow  your  heart,  my  little  one,"  said  Reb  Shemuel.  "It  is 
a  good  heart  and  it  will  not  lead  you  wrong." 

Hannah  turned  away  to  hide  the  tears  that  could  no  longer  be 
stayed.     Her  father  resumed  his  reading  of  the  Law. 


232  CHILDREN  OF  THE    GHETTO. 

But  he  had  got  through  very  few  verses  ere  he  felt  a  soft  warm 
arm  round  his  neck  and  a  wet  cheek  laid  close  to  his. 

"  Father,  forgive  me,"  whispered  the  lips.  "  I  am  so  sorry.  I 
thought  that  —  that  I  —  that  you  —  oh  father,  father!  I  feel  as 
if  I  had  never  known  you  before  to-night.-' 

"What  is  it,  my  daughter?  "  said  Reb  Shemuel,  stumbling  into 
Yiddish  in  his  anxiety.     "  What  hast  thou  done?" 

"  I  have  betrothed  myself,"  she  answered,  unwittingly  adopt- 
ing his  dialect.  "  I  have  betrothed  myself  without  telling  thee 
or  mother." 

"To  whom?"  he  asked  anxiously. 

"  To  a  Jew,"  she  hastened  to  assure  him.  "  But  he  is  neither 
a  Talmud-sage  nor  pious.  He  is  newly  returned  from  the 
Cape." 

"  Ah,  they  are  a  link  lot,"  muttered  the  Reb  anxiously. 
"  Where  didst  thou  first  meet  him  ?  " 

"At  the  Club,"  she  answered.  "At  the  Purim  Ball  — the 
night  before  Sam  Levine  came  round  here  to  be  divorced  from 
me." 

He  wrinkled  his  great  brow.  "  Thy  mother  w^ould  have  thee 
go,"  he  said.  "  Thou  didst  not  deserve  I  should  get  thee  the 
divorce.     What  is  his  name?" 

"  David  Brandon.  He  is  not  like  other  Jewish  young  men  ;  I 
thought  he  was  and  did  him  wrong  and  mocked  at  him  when 
first  he  spoke  to  me,  so  that  afterwards  I  felt  tender  towards 
him.  His  conversation  is  agreeable,  for  he  thinks  for  himself, 
and  deeming  thou  wouldst  not  hear  of  such  a  match  and  that 
there  was  no  danger,  I  met  him  at  the  Club  several  times  in  the 
evening,  and  —  and  —  thou  knowest  the  rest." 

She  turned  away  her  face,  blushing,  contrite,  happy,  anxious. 

Her  love-story  was  as  simple  as  her  telling  of  it.  David 
Brandon  was  not  the  shadowy  Prince  of  her  maiden  dreams, 
nor  was  the  passion  exactly  as  she  had  imagined  it ;  it  was  both 
stronger  and  stranger,  and  the  sense  of  secrecy  and  impending 
opposition  instilled  into  her  love  a  poignant  sweetness. 

The  Reb  stroked  her  hair  silently. 

"  I  would  not  have  said  •  Yea '  so  quick,  father,"  she  went  on. 


THE  HEBREW'S  FRIDAY  NIGHT.  233 

"but  David  had  to  go  to  Germany  to  take  a  message  to  the  aged 
parents  of  his  Cape  chum,  who  died  in  the  gold-fields.  David 
had  promised  the  dying  man  to  go  personally  as  soon  as  he 
returned  to  England  —  I  think  it  was  a  request  for  forgiveness 
and  blessing  —  but  after  meeting  me  he  delayed  going,  and  when 
I  learned  of  it  I  reproached  him,  but  he  said  he  could  not  tear 
himself  away,  and  he  would  not  go  till  I  had  confessed  I  loved 
him.  At  last  I  said  if  he  would  go  home  the  moment  I  said  it 
and  not  bother  about  getting  me  a  ring  or  anything,  but  go  off  to 
Germany  the  first  thing  the  next  morning,  I  would  admit  I  loved 
him  a  little  bit.  Thus  did  it  occur.  He  went  off  last  Wednes- 
day. Oh,  isn't  it  cruel  to  think,  father,  that  he  should  be  going 
with  love  and  joy  in  his  heart  to  the  parents  of  his  dead  friend!" 

Her  father's  head  was  bent.  She  lifted  it  up  by  the  chin  and 
looked  pleadingly  into  the  big  brown  eyes. 

"  Thou  art  not  angry  with  me,  father? " 

"No,  Hannah.  But  thou  shouldst  have  told  me  from  the 
first." 

"  I  always  meant  to,  father.     But  I  feared  to  grieve  thee." 

"Wherefore?  The  man  is  a  Jew.  And  thou  lovest  him,  dost 
thou  not? " 

"  As  my  life,  father." 

He  kissed  her  lips. 

"It  is  enough,  my  Hannah.  With  thee  to  love  him,  he  will 
become  pious.  When  a  man  has  a  good  Jewish  wife  like  my 
beloved  daughter,  who  will  keep  a  good  Jewish  house,  he  cannot 
be  long  among  the  sinners.  The  light  of  a  true  Jewish  home 
will  lead  his  footsteps  back  to  God." 

Hannah  pressed  her  face  to  his  in  silence.  She  could  not 
speak.  She  had  not  strength  to  undeceive  him  further,  to  tell 
him  she  had  no  care  for  trivial  forms.  Besides,  in  the  flush  of 
gratitude  and  surprise  at  her  father's  tolerance,  she  felt  stirrings 
of  responsive  tolerance  to  his  religion.  It  was  not  the  moment 
to  analyze  her  feelings  or  to  enunciate  her  state  of  mind  regard- 
ing religion.  She  simply  let  herself  sink  in  the  sweet  sense  of 
restored  confidence  and  love,  her  head  resting  against  his. 

Presently  Reb  Shemuel  put  his  hands  on  her  head  and  mur- 


b 


234  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

mured  again :  '''  May  God  make  thee  as  Sarah,  Rebecca,  Rachel 
and  Leah." 

Then  he  added :  "  Go  now,  my  daughter,  and  make  glad  the 
heart  of  thy  mother." 

Hannah  suspected  a  shade  of  satire  in  the  words,  but  was  not 
sure. 

The  roaring  Sambatyon  of  life  was  at  rest  in  the  Ghetto ;  on 
thousands  of  squalid  homes  the  light  of  Sinai  shone.  The 
Sabbath  Angels  whispered  words  of  hope  and  comfort  to  the 
foot-sore  hawker  and  the  aching  machinist,  and  refreshed  their 
parched  souls  with  celestial  anodyne  and  made  them  kings  of 
the  hour,  with  leisure  to  dream  of  the  golden  chairs  that  awaited 
thenxin  Paradise. 

/T'he  Ghetto  welcomed  the  Bride  with  proud  song  and  humble 
feast,  and  sped  her  parting  with  optimistic  symbolisms  of  fire 
and  wine,  of  spice  and  light  and  shadow.  All  around  their 
neighbors  sought  distraction  in  the  blazing  public-houses,  and 
their  tipsy  bellpwings  resounded  through  the  streets  and  mingled 
with  the  Hebrew  hymns.  Here  and  there  the  voice  of  a  beaten 
woman  rose  on  the  air.  But  no  Son  of  the  Covenant  was  among 
the  revellers  or  the  wife-beaters ;  the  Jews  remained  a  chosen 
race,  a  peculiar  people,  faulty  enough,  but  redeemed  at  least  from 
the  grosser  vices,  a  little  human  islet  won  from  the  waters  of 
animalism  by  the  genius  of  ancient  engineers.  For  while  the 
genius  of  the  Greek  or  the  Roman,  the  Egyptian  or  the  Phoeni- 
cian, survives  but  in  word  and  stone,  the  Hebrew  word  alone 
was  made  flesh. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

WITH    THE   STRIKERS. 


"Ignorant  donkey-heads  !  "  cried  Pinchas  next  Friday  morn- 
ing. "  Him  they  make  a  Rabbi  and  give  him  the  right  of 
answering  questions,  and  he  know  no  more  of  Judaism,"  the 
patriotic  poet  paused  to  take  a  bite  out  of  his  ham-sandwich. 


WITH   THE   STRIKERS.  235 

'•'  than  a  cow  of  Sunday.  I  lof  his  daughter  and  I  tell  him  so 
and  he  tells  me  she  lof  another.  But  I  haf  held  him  up  on  the 
point  of  my  pen  to  the  contempt  of  posterity.  I  haf  written  an 
acrostic  on  him  ;  it  is  terrible.     Her  vill  I  shoot." 

"  Ah,  they  are  a  bad  lot,  these  Rabbis,"  said  Simon  Wolf,  sip- 
ping his  sherry.  The  conversation  took  place  in  English  and 
the  two  men  were  seated  in  a  small  private  room  in  a  public- 
house,  awaiting  the  advent  of  the  Strike  Committee. 

"  Dey  are  like  de  rest  of  de  Community.  I  vash  my  hands  of 
dem,"  said  the  poet,  waving  his  cigar  in  a  fiery  crescent. 

"  I  have  long  since  washed  my  hands  of  them,"  said  Simon 
Wolf,  though  the  fact  was  not  obvious.  "  We  can  trust  neither 
our  Rabbis  nor  our  philanthropists.  The  Rabbis  engrossed  in 
the  hypocritical  endeavor  to  galvanize  the  corpse  of  Judaism 
into  a  vitality  that  shall  last  at  least  their  own  lifetime,  have 
neither  time  nor  thought  for  the  great  labor  question.  Our 
philanthropists  do  but  scratch  the  surface.  They  give  the  work- 
ing-man with  their  right  hand  what  they  have  stolen  from  him 
with  the  left." 

Simon  Wolf  was  the  great  Jewish  labor  leader.  Most  of  his 
cronies  were  rampant  atheists,  disgusted  with  the  commercialism 
of  the  believers.  They  were  clever  young  artisans  from  Russia 
and  Poland  with  a  smattering  of  education,  a  feverish  receptive- 
ness  for  all  the  iconoclastic  ideas  that  were  in  the  London  air, 
a  hatred  of  capitalism  and  strong  social  sympathies.  They  wrote 
vigorous  jargon  for  i\\Q  Friend  of  Labor  ?Lnd  compassed  the  ex- 
treme proverbial  limits  of  impiety  by  '^  eating  pork  on  the  Day  of 
Atonement."  This  was  done  partly  to  vindicate  their  religious 
opinions  whose  correctness  was  demonstrated  by  the  non-appear- 
ance of  thunderbolts,  partly  to  show  that  nothing  one  way  or  the 
other  was  to  be  expected  from  Providence  or  its  professors. 

"  The  only  way  for  our  poor  brethren  to  be  saved  from  their 
slavery,"  went  on  Simon  Wolf,  "  is  for  them  to  combine  against 
the  sweaters  and  to  let  the  West-End  Jews  go  and  hang  them- 
selves." 

"  Ah,  dat  is  mine  policee,"  said  Pinchas,  "  dat  was  mine 
policee  ven  I  founded  de  Holy  Land  League.     Help  yourselves 


236  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

and  Pinchas  vill  help  you.  You  muz  combine,  and  den  I  vill  be 
de  Moses  to  lead  you  out  of  de  land  of  bondage.  IVem,  I  vill 
be  more  dan  Moses,  for  he  had  not  de  gift  of  eloquence." 

"  And  he  was  the  meekest  man  that  ever  lived,"  added  Wolf. 

"  Yes,  he  was  a  fool-man,"  said  Pinchas  imperturbably.  "  I 
agree  with  Goethe  —  mir  L^iinpen  sifid  bescheiden,  only  clods 
are  modaist.  I  am  not  modaist.  Is  the  Almighty  modaist? 
I  know,  I  feel  vat  I  am,  vat  I  can  do." 

"  Look  here,  Pinchas,  you're  a  very  clever  fellow,  I  know,  and 
Fm  very  glad  to  have  you  with  us  —  but  remember  I  have  organ- 
ized this  movement  for  years,  planned  it  out  as  I  sat  toiling  in 
Belcovitch's  machine-room,  written  on  it  till  Fve  got  the  cramp, 
spoken  on  it  till  I  was  hoarse,  given  evidence  before  innumer- 
able Commissions.  It  is  I  who  have  stirred  up  the  East-End 
Jews  and  sent  the  echo  of  their  cry  into  Parliament,  and  I  will 
not  be  interfered  with.     Do  you  hear?" 

"  Yes,  I  hear.  Vy  you  not  listen  to  me  ?  You  no  understand 
vat  I  mean !  " 

"Oh,  I  understand  you  well  enough.  You  want  to  oust  me 
from  my  position." 

''Me?  Me?"  repeated  the  poet  in  an  injured  and  astonished 
tone.  "  Vy  midout  you  de  movement  vould  crumble  like  a 
mummy  in  de  air ;  be  not  such  a  fool-man.  To  everybody  I  haf 
said  — ah,  dat  Simon  Wolf  he  is  a  great  man,  a  vair  great  man  ; 
he  is  de  only  man  among  de  English  Jews  who  can  save  de  East- 
End ;  it  is  he  that  should  be  member  for  Vitechapel — not  that 
fool-man  Gideon.  Be  not  such  a  fool-man!  Haf  anoder  glaz 
sherry  and  some  more  ham-sandwiches."  The  poet  had  a  simple 
child-like  delight  in  occasionally  assuming  the  host. 

"  Very  well,  so  long  as  I  have  your  assurance,"  said  the  molli- 
fied labor-leader,  mumbling  the  conclusion  of  the  sentence  into 
his  wine-glass.  "•'But  you  know  how  it  is!  After  I  have  worked 
the  thing  for  years,  I  don't  want  to  see  a  drone  come  in  and  take 
the  credit." 

"  Yes,  sic  vos  non  vobis,  as  the  Talmud  says.  Do  you  know  I 
haf  proved  that  Virgil  stole  all  his  ideas  from  the  Talmud?" 

"  First  there  was  Black  and  then  there  was  Cohen  —  now  Gid- 


WITH   THE   STRIKERS.  'lol 

eon,  M.P.,  sees  he  can  get  some  advertisement  out  of  it  in  the 
press,  he  wants  to  preside  at  the  meetings.  Members  of  ParHa- 
ment  are  a  bad  lot!  " 

uYes  —  but  dey  shall  not  take  de  credit  from  you.  I  will 
write  and  expose  dem  — the  world  shall  know  what  humbugs 
dey  are,  how  de  whole  wealthy  West-End  stood  idly  by  with 
her  hands  in  de  working-men's  pockets  while  you  vere  building 
up  de  great  organization.  You  know  all  de  jargon-papers  jump 
at  vat  I  write,  dey  sign  my  name  in  vair  large  type  — Melchit- 
sedek  Pinchas  — under  everyting,  and  I  am  so  pleased  with  deir 
homage,  I  do  not  ask  for  payment,  for  dey  are  vair  poor.  By 
dis  time  I  am  famous  everywhere,  my  name  has  been  in  de  even- 
ing papers,  and  ven  I  write  about  you  to  de  Times^  you  vill  be- 
come as  famous  as  me.  And  den  you  vill  write  about  me  —  ve 
vill  put  up  for  Vitechapel  at  de  elections,  ve  vill  both  become 
membairs  of  Parliament,  I  and  you,  eh?'' 

"  Pm  afraid  there's  not  much  chance  of  that,"  sighed  Simon 

Wolf. 

"Vynot?     Dere  are  two  seats.     Vy  should  you  not  haf  de 

Oder?" 

"Ain't  you  forgetting  about  election  expenses,  Pinchas?" 

'-'■  Neinl  "  repeated  the  poet  emphatically.  "I  forgets  noding. 
Ve  vill  start  a  fund." 

"  We  can't  start  funds  for  ourselves." 

"  Be  not  a  fool-man  ;  of  course  not.     You  for  me,  I  for  you." 

"'  You  won't  get  much,"  said  Simon,  laughing  ruefully  at  the 
idea. 

"Tink  not?  Praps  not.  But  you  vill  for  me.  Ven  I  am  in 
Parliament,  de  load  vill  be  easier  for  us  both.  Besides  I  vill  go 
to  de  Continent  soon  to  give  avay  de  rest  of  de  copies  of  my 
book.  I  expect  to  make  dousands  of  pounds  by  it  —  for  dey 
know  how  to  honor  scholars  and  poets  abroad.  D^re  dey  haf 
not  stupid-head  stockbrokers  like  Gideon,  M.P.,  ministers  like 
the  Reverend  Elkan  Benjamin  who  keep  four  mistresses,  and 
Rabbis  like  Reb  Shemuel  vid  long  white  beards  outside  and 
emptiness  vidin  who  sell  deir  daughters." 

"  I  don't  want  to  look  so  far  ahead,"  said  Simon  Wolf.     "  At 


238  '      CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

present,  what  we  have  to  do  is  to  carry  this  strike  through. 
Once  we  get  our  demands  from  the  masters  a  powerful  blow  will 
have  been  struck  for  the  emancipation  of  ten  thousand  working- 
men.  They  will  have  more  money  and  more  leisure,  a  little 
less  of  hell  and  a  little  more  of  heaven.  The  coming  Passover 
would,  indeed,  be  an  appropriate  festival  even  for  the  most  het- 
erodox among  them  if  we  could  strike  off  their  chains  in  the 
interim.  But  it  seems  impossible  to  get  unity  among  them  —  a 
large  section  appears  to  mistrust  me,  though  I  swear  to  you, 
Pinchas,  I  am  actuated  by  nothing  but  an  unselfish  desire  for 
their  good.  May  this  morsel  of  sandwich  choke  me  if  I  have 
ever  been  swayed  by  anything  but  sympathy  with  their  wrongs. 
And  yet  you  saw  that  malicious  pamphlet  that  was  circulated 
against  me  in  Yiddish  —  silly,  illiterate  scribble." 

"  Oh,  no!  "  said  Pinchas.  "  It  was  vair  beautiful ;  sharp  as  de 
sting  of  de  hornet.  But  vat  can  you  expect?  Christ  suffered. 
All  great  benefactors  suffer.  Am  /  happy?  But  it  is  only  your 
own  foolishness  that  you  must  tank  if  dere  is  dissension  in  de 
camp.  De  Gomorah  says  ve  muz  be  vize,  chochavi ;  ve  muz  haf 
tact.  See  vat  you  haf  done.  You  haf  frighten  avay  de  ortodox 
fool-men.  Dey  are  oppressed,  dey  sweat  —  but  dey  tink  deir 
God  make  dem  sweat.  Why  you  tell  dem,  no?  Vat  mattairs? 
Free  dem  from  hunger  and  tirst  first,  den  freedom  from  deir 
fool-superstitions  vill  come  of  itself.  Jeshurun  vax  fat  and  kick? 
Hey?     You  go  de  wrong  vay." 

"  Do  you  mean  Pm  to  pretend  to  be  p'ooui^''  said  Simon 
Wolf. 

"  And  ven?  Vat  mattairs?  You  are  a  fool,  man.  To  get  to 
de  goal  one  muz  go  crooked  vays.  Ah,  you  have  no  stadesman- 
ship.  You  frighten  dem.  You  lead  processions  vid  bands  and 
banners  on  Shabbos  to  de  Shools.  Many  who  vould  be  glad  to 
be  delivered  by  you  tremble  for  de  heavenly  lightning.  Dey  go 
not  in  de  procession.  Many  go  when  deir  head  is  on  fire  — 
afterwards,  dey  take  fright  and  beat  deir  breasts.  Vat  vill  hap- 
pen? De  ortodox  are  de  majority;  in  time  dere  vill  come  a 
leader  who  vill  be,  or  pretend  to  be,  ortodox  as  veil  as  socialist. 
Den  vat  become  of  you?     You  are  left  vid  von,  two,  tree  ateists 


WITH   THE   STRIKERS.  .  239 

—  not  enough  to  make  Miiiyan.  No,  ve  muz  be  chocha?n,  ve 
muz  take  de  men  as  ve  find  dem.  God  has  made  two  classes  of 
men  —  vise-men  and  fool-men.  Dere  is  one  vise-man  to  a  mill- 
ion fool-men  —  and  he  sits  on  deir  head  and  dey  support  him. 
If  dese  fool-men  vant  to  go  to  Shool  and  to  fast  on  Yo7n  Kippur.^ 
vat  for  you  make  a  feast  of  pig  and  shock  dem,  so  dey  not  be- 
lieve in  your  socialism?  Ven  you  vant  to  eat  pig,  you  do  it  here, 
like  ve  do  now,  in  private.  In  public,  ve  spit  out  ven  ve  see  pig. 
Ah,  you  are  a  fool-man.  I  am  a  stadesman,  a  politician.  I  vill 
be  de  Machiavelli  of  de  movement." 

"  Ah,  Pinchas,  you  are  a  devil  of  a  chap,"  said  Wolf,  laughing. 
"And  yet  you  say  you  are  the  poet  of  patriotism  and  Palestine." 

"Vy  not?  Vy  should  we  lif  here  in  captivity?  Vy  we  shall 
not  have  our  own  state  —  and  our  own  President,  a  man  who 
combine  deep  politic  vid  knowledge  of  Hebrew  literature  and  de 
pen  of  a  poet.  No,  let  us  fight  to  get  back  our  country  —  ve  vill 
not  hang  our  harps  on  the  villovvs  of  Babylon  and  veep  —  ve  vill 
take  our  swords  vid  Ezra  and  Judas  Maccabaeus,  and  —  " 

"  One  thing  at  a  time,  Pinchas,"  said  Simon  Wolf.  ''  At  pres- 
ent, we  have  to  consider  how  to  distribute  these  food-tickets. 
The  committee-men  are  late  ;  I  wonder  if  there  has  been  any 
fighting  at  the  centres,  where  they  have  been  addressing  meet- 
ings." 

"  Ah,  dat  is  anoder  point,"  said  Pinchas.  "  Vy  you  no  let  me 
address  meetings  —  not  de  little  ones  in  de  street,  but  de  great 
ones  in  de  hall  of  de  Club  ?  Dere  my  vords  vould  rush  like  de 
moundain  dorrents,  sveeping  avay  de  corruptions.  But  you  let 
all  dese  fool-men  talk.  You  know,  Simon,  I  and  you  are  de  only 
two  persons  in  de  East-End  who  speak  Ainglish  properly." 

"I  know.     But  these  speeches  must  be  in  Yiddish." 

"  Gezuiss.  But  who  speak  her  like  me  and  you?  You  muz gif 
me  a  speech  to-night." 

"I  can't;  really  not,"  said  Simon.  "The  programme's  ar- 
ranged. You  know  they're  all  jealous  of  me  already.  I  dare 
not  leave  one  out." 

"Ah,  no;  do  not  say  dat!"  said  Pinchas,  laying  his  finger 
pleadingly  on  the  side  of  his  nose. 


240  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

"I  must." 

"  You  tear  my  heart  in  two.  I  lof  you  like  a  brother  —  ahnost 
like  a  voman.  Just  von  !  "  There  was  an  appealing  smile  in  his 
eye. 

"I  cannot.     I  shall  have  a  hornefs  nest  about  my  ears." 

"Von  leedle  von,  Simon  Wolf!"  Again  his  finger  was  on 
his  nose. 

"It  is  impossible." 

"You  haf  not  considair  how  my  Yiddish  shall  make  kindle 
every  heart,  strike  tears  from  every  eye,  as  Moses  did  from  de 
rock." 

"  I  have.     I  know.     But  what  am  I  to  do?  " 

"  Jus  dis  leedle  favor ;  and  I  vill  be  gradeful  to  you  all  mine 
life." 

"  You  know  I  would  if  I  could." 

Pinchas's  finger  was  laid  more  insistently  on  his  nose. 

"Just  dis  vonce.  Grant  me  dis,  and  I  vill  nevair  ask  anyding 
of  you  in  all  my  life." 

"No,  no.  Don't  bother,  Pinchas.  Go  away  now,"  said  Wolf, 
getting  annoyed.     "  I  have  lots  to  do." 

"  I  vill  never  gif  you  mine  ideas  again!  "  said  the  poet,  flashing 
up,  and  he  went  out  and  banged  the  door. 

The  labor-leader  settled  to  his  papers  with  a  sigh  of  relief. 

The  relief  was  transient.  A  moment  afterwards  the  door  was 
slightly  opened,  and  Pinchas's  head  was  protruded  through  the 
aperture.  The  poet  wore  his  most  endearing  smile,  the  finger 
was  laid  coaxingly  against  the  nose. 

"Just  von  leedle  speech,  Simon.     Tink  how  I  lof  you." 

"  Oh,  well,  go  away.  I'll  see,"  replied  Wolf,  laughing  amid 
all  his  annoyance. 

The  poet  rushed  in  and  kissed  the  hem  of  Wolf's  coat. 

"  Oh,  you  be  a  great  man!"  he  said.  Then  he  walked  out, 
closing  the  door  gently.  A  moment  afterwards,  a  vision  of  tlie 
dusky  head,  with  the  carneying  smile  and  the  finger  on  the  nose, 
reappeared. 

"  You  von't  forget  your  promise,"  said  the  head. 

"No,  no.     Go  to  the  devil.     I  won't  forget." 


WITH   THE   STRIKERS.  241 

Pinchas  walked  home  through  streets  thronged  with  excited 
strikers,  discussing  the  situation  with  oriental  exuberance  of 
gesture,  with  any  one  who  would  listen.  The  demands  of  these 
poor  slop-hands  (who  could  only  count  upon  six  hours  out  of 
the  twenty-four  for  themselves,  and  who,  by  the  help  of  their 
wives  and  little  ones  in  finishing,  might  earn  a  pound  a  week) 
were  moderate  enough  —  hours  from  eight  to  eight,  with  an  hour 
for  dinner  and  half  an  hour  for  tea,  two  shillings  from  the  gov- 
ernment contractors  for  making  a  policeman's  great-coat  instead 
of  one  and  ninepence  halfpenny,  and  so  on  and  so  on.  Their 
intentions  were  strictly  peaceful.  Every  face  was  stamped  with 
the  marks  of  intellect  and  ill-health  —  the  hue  of  a  muddy  pallor 
relieved  by  the  flash  of  eyes  and  teeth.  Their  shoulders  stooped, 
their  chests  were  narrow,  their  arms  flabby.  They  came  in  their 
hundreds  to  the  hall  at  night.  It  was  square-shaped  with  a  stage 
and  galleries,  for  a  jargon-company  sometimes  thrilled  the  Ghetto 
with  tragedy  and  tickled  it  with  farce.  Both  species  were  play- 
ing  to-night,  and  in  jargon  to  boot.  In  real  life  you  always  get 
your  drama  mixed,  and  the  sock  of  comedy  galls  the  buskin  of 
tragedy.  It  was  an  episode  in  the  pitiful  tussle  of  hunger  and 
greed,  yet  its  humors  were  grotesque  enough.  ,.^^^^ 

Full  as  the  Hall  was,  it  was  not  crowded,  for  it  was  Friday] 
night  and  a  large  contingent  of  strikers  refused  to  desecrate  the 
Sabbath  by  attending  the  meeting.  But  these  were  the  zealots 
—  Moses  Ansell  among  them,  for  he,  too,  had  struck.  Having 
been  out  of  work  already  he  had  nothing  to  lose  by  augmenting 
the  numerical  importance  of  the  agitation.  The  moderately 
pious  argued  that  there  was  no  financial  business  to  transact  and 
attendance  could  hardly  come  under  the  denomination  of  work. 
It  was  rather  analogous  to  attendance  at  a  lecture  —  they  would 
simply  have  to  listen  to  speeches.  Besides  it  would  be  but  a 
black  Sabbath  at  home  with  a  barren  larder,  and  they  had  already 
been  to  synagogue.  Thus  degenerates  ancient  piety  in  the  stress 
of  modern  social  problems.  Some  of  the  men  had  not  even 
changed  their  everyday  face  for  their  Sabbath  countenance  by 
washing  it.  Some  wore  collars,  and  shiny  threadbare  garments 
of  dignified  origin,  others  were  unafl"ectedly  poverty-stricken  with 


242  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

dingy  shirt-cuffs  peeping  out  of  frayed  sleeve  edges  and  un- 
healthily colored  scarfs  folded  complexly  round  their  necks.  A 
minority  belonged  to  the  Free-thinking  party,  but  the  majority 
only  availed  themselves  of  Wolf's  services  because  they  were 
indispensable.  For  the  moment  he  was  the  only  possible  leader, 
and  they  were  sufficiently  Jesuitic  to  use  the  Devil  himself  for 
good  ends. 

Though  Wolf  would  not  give  up  a  Friday-night  meeting  — 
especially  valuable,  as  permitting  of  the  attendance  of  tailors 
who  had  not  yet  struck  —  Pinchas's  politic  advice  had  not  failed 
to  make  an  impression.  Like  so  many  reformers  who  have 
started  with  blatant  atheism,  he  was  beginning  to  see  the  in- 
significance of  irreligious  dissent  as  compared  with  the  solution 
of  the  social  problem,  and  Pinchas's  seed  had  fallen  on  ready 
soil.  As  a  labor-leader,  pure  and  simple,  he  could  count  upon  a 
far  larger  following  than  as  a  preacher  of  militant  impiety.  He 
resolved  to  keep  his  atheism  in  the  background  for  the  future 
and  devote  himself  to  the  enfranchisement  of  the  body  before 
tampering  with  the  soul.  He  was  too  proud  ever  to  acknowl- 
edge his  indebtedness  to  the  poet's  suggestion,  but  he  felt  grate- 
ful to  him  all  the  same. 

''  My  brothers,"  he  said  in  Yiddish,  when  his  turn  came  to 
speak.  "  It  pains  me  much  to  note  how  disunited  we  are.  The 
capitalists,  the  Belcovitches,  would  rejoice  if  they  but  knew  all 
that  is  going  on.  Have  we  not  enemies  enough  that  we  must 
quarrel  and  split  up  into  little  factions  among  ourselves?  (Hear, 
hear.)  How  can  we  hope  to  succeed  unless  we  are  thoroughly 
organized?  It  has  come  to  my  ears  that  there  are  men  who 
insinuate  things  even  about  me  and  before  I  go  on  further 
to-night  I  wish  to  put  this  question  to  you."  He  paused  and 
there  was  a  breathless  silence.  The  orator  threw  his  chest 
forwards  and  gazing  fearlessly  at  the  assembly  cried  in  a  sten- 
torian voice : 

"  Sind  sie  ziifrieden  niit  ihrer  Chairman  ?  "  (Are  you  satis- 
fied with  your  chairman  ?) 

His  audacity  made  an  impression.  The  discontented  cowered 
timidly  in  their  places. 


WITH   THE   STRIKERS.  243 

"  Yes^^''  rolled  back  from  the  assenibly,  proud  of  its  English 
monosyllables. 

''^ Nein^''  cried  a  solitary  voice  from  the  topmost  gallery. 

Instantly  the  assembly  was  on  its  legs,  eyeing  the  dissen- 
tient angrily.  "Get  down!  Go  on  the  platform!"  mingled 
with  cries  of  "  order "  from  the  Chairman,  who  in  vain  sum- 
moned him  on  to  the  stage.  The  dissentient  waved  a  roll  of 
paper  violently  and  refused  to  modify  his  standpoint.  He  was 
evidently  speaking,  for  his  jaws  were  making  movements,  which 
in  the  din  and  uproar  could  not  rise  above  grimaces.  There 
was  a  battered  high  hat  on  the  back  of  his  head,  and  his  hair 
was  uncombed,  and  his  face  unwashed.  At  last  silence  was 
restored  and  the  tirade  became  audible. 

"  Cursed  sweaters  —  capitalists  —  stealing  men's  brains  —  leav- 
ing us  to  rot  and  starve  in  darkness  and  filth.  Curse  them! 
Curse  them!''  The  speaker's  voice  rose  to  a  hysterical  scream, 
as  he  rambled  on. 

Some  of  the  men  knew  him  and  soon  there  flew  from  lip  to 
lip,  "Oh,  it's  only  McsJuiggeiie  Dovid.'''' 

Mad  Davy  was  a  gifted  Russian  university  student,  who  had 
been  mixed  up  with  nihilistic  conspiracies  and  had  fled  to  Eng- 
land where  the  struggle  to  find  employ  for  his  clerical  talents 
had  addled  his  brain.  He  had  a  gift  for  chess  and  mechanical 
invention,  and  in  the  early  days  had  saved  himself  from  star- 
vation by  the  sale  of  some  ingenious  patents  to  a  swaggering 
co-religionist  who  owned  race-horses  and  a  music-hall,  but  he 
sank  into  squaring  the  circle  and  inventing  perpetual  motion. 
He  lived  now  on  the  casual  crumbs  of  indigent  neighbors,  for 
the  charitable  organizations  had  marked  him  "  dangerous." 
He  was  a  man  of  infinite  loquacity,  with  an  intense  jealousy  of 
Simon  Wolf  or  any  such  uninstructed  person  who  assumed 
to  lead  the  populace,  but  when  the  assembly  accorded  him 
his  hearing  he  forgot  the  occasion  of  his  rising  in  a  burst  of 
passionate  invective  against  society. 

When  the  irrelevancy  of  his  remarks  became  apparent,  he 
was  rudely  howled  down  and  his  neighbors  pulled  him  into  his 
seat,  where  he  gibbered  and  mowed  inaudibly. 


244  CHILDREN  OF  THE    GHETTO. 

Wolf  continued  his  address. 

"  Sind  sie  ziifrieden  mit  Hirer  Secretary  ?  " 

This  time  there  was  no  dissent.  The  ^^  Ves''"'  came  like 
thunder. 

"  Sifid  sie  ziifrieden  jnit  ihrer  Treasurer  f  " 

Yeas  and  nays  mingled.  The  question  of  the  retention 
of  the  functionary  was  put  to  the  vote.  But  there  was  much 
confusion,  for  the  East-End  Jew  is  only  slowly  becoming  a 
political  animal.  The  ayes  had  it,  but  Wolf  was  not  yet 
satisfied  with  the  satisfaction  of  the  gathering.  He  repeated 
the  entire  batch  of  questions  in  a  new  formula  so  as  to  drive 
them  home. 

'-'■  Hot  a7ier  etwas  zn  sagen  gegen  niir  ?''''  Which  is  Yiddish 
for  "  has  any  one  anything  to  say  against  me  ?  " 

''  No  I ''"'  came  in  a  vehement  roar. 

''  Hot  aner  etwas  zu  sagen  gegen  dcin  secretary  .^" 

"  No ! " 

"  Hot  a)ier  etwas  zii  sagen  gegen  detn  treasurer  f  " 

u  jYo ! " 

Having  thus  shown  his  grasp  of  logical  exhaustiveness  in 
a  manner  unduly  exhausting  to  the  more  intelligent,  Wolf 
consented  to  resume  his  oration.  He  had  scored  a  victory, 
and  triumph  lent  him  added  eloquence.  When  he  ceased  he 
left  his  audience  in  a  frenzy  of  resolution  and  loyalty.  In 
the  flush  of  conscious  power  and  freshly  added  influence,  he 
found  a  niche  for  Pinchas's  oratory. 

"Brethren  in  exile,"  said  the  poet  in  his  best  Yiddish. 

Pinchas  spoke  German  which  is  an  outlandish  form  of  Yiddish 
and  scarce  understanded  of  the  people,  so  that  to  be  intelligible 
he  had  to  divest  himself  of  sundry  inflections,  and  to  throw  gen- 
der to  the  winds  and  to  say  "  wet "  for  '"  wird  "  and  mix  hybrid 
Hebrew  and  ill-pronounced  English  with  his  vocabulary.  There 
was  some  cheering  as  Pinchas  tossed  his  dishevelled  locks  and 
addressed  the  gathering,  for  everybody  to  whom  he  had  ever 
spoken  knew  that  he  was  a  wise  and  learned  man  and  a  great 
singer  in  Israel. 

"  Brethren  in  exile,"  said  the  poet.     "  The  hour  has  come  for 


WITH   THE   STRIKERS.  245 

laying  the  sweaters  low.  Singly  we  are  sand-grains,  together 
we  are  the  simoom.  Our  great  teacher,  Moses,  was  the  first 
Socialist.  The  legislation  of  the  Old  Testament — the  land 
laws,  the  jubilee  regulations,  the  tender  care  for  the  poor,  the 
subordination  of  the  rights  of  property  to  the  interests  of  the 
working-men  —  all  this  is  pure  Socialism!  " 

The  poet  paused  for  the  cheers  which  came  in  a  mighty  vol- 
ume. Few  of  those  present  knew  what  Socialism  was,  but 
all  knew  the  word  as  a  shibboleth  of  salvation  from  sweaters. 
Socialism  meant  shorter  hours  and  higher  wages  and  was  obtain- 
able by  marching  with  banners  and  brass  bands  —  what  need  to 
inquire  further? 

"In  short,"  pursued  the  poet,  "  Socialism  is  Judaism  and  Juda- 
ism is  Socialism,  and  Karl  Marx  and  Lassalle,  the  founders  of 
Socialism,  were  Jews.  Judaism  does  not  bother  with  the  next 
world.  It  says,  '  Eat,  drink  and  be  satisfied  and  thank  the 
Lord,  thy  God,  who  brought  thee  out  of  Egypt  from  the  land 
of  bondage.'  But  we  have  nothing  to  eat,  we  have  nothing  to 
drink,  we  have  nothing  to  be  satisfied  with,  we  are  still  in  the 
land  of  bondage."  (Cheers.)  "  My  brothers,  how  can  we  keep 
Judaism  in  a  land  where  there  is  no  Socialism?  We  must  be- 
come better  Jews,  we  must  bring  on  Socialism,  for  the  period 
of  Socialism  on  earth  and  of  peace  and  plenty  and  brotherly 
love  is  what  all  our  prophets  and  great  teachers  meant  by 
Messiah-times." 

A  little  murmur  of  dissent  rose  here  and  there,  but  Pinchas 
went  on. 

"  When  Hillel  the  Great  summed  up  the  law  to  the  would-be 
proselyte  while  standing  on  one  leg,  how  did  he  express  it? 
'  Do  not  unto  others  what  you  would  not  have  others  do  unto 
you.'  This  is  Socialism  in  a  nut-shell.  Do  not  keep  your 
riches  for  yourself,  spread  them  abroad.  Do  not  fatten  on  the 
labor  of  the  poor,  but  share  it.  Do  not  eat  the  food  others 
have  earned,  but  earn  your  own.  Yes,  brothers,  the  only  true 
Jews  in  England  are  the  Socialists.  Phylacteries,  praying- 
shawls —  all  nonsense.  Work  for  Socialism  —  that  pleases  the 
Almighty.     The  Messiah  will  be  a  Socialist." 


246  CHILDREN  OF  THE    GHETTO. 

There  were  mingled  sounds,  men  asking  each  other  dubiously, 
"What  says  he?"  They  began  to  sniff  brimstone.  Wolf,  shift- 
ing uneasily  on  his  chair,  kicked  the  poet's  leg  in  reminder  of  his 
own  warning.  But  Pinchas's  head  was  touching  the  stars  again. 
Mundane  considerations  were  left  behind  somewhere  in  the 
depths  of  space  below  his  feet. 

"But  how  is  the  Messiah  to  redeem  his  people? ''  he  asked. 
"  Not  now-a-days  by  the  sword  but  by  the  tongue.  He  will 
plead  the  cause  of  Judaism,  the  cause  of  Socialism,  in  Parliament. 
He  will  not  come  with  mock  miracle  like  Bar  Cochba  or  Zevi. 
At  the  general  election,  brothers,  I  will  stand  as  the  candidate 
for  Wliitechapel.  I,  a  poor  man,  one  of  yourselves,  will  take  my 
stand  in  that  mighty  assembly  and  touch  the  hearts  of  the  legis- 
lators. They  shall  bend  before  my  oratory  as  the  bulrushes  of 
the  Nile  when  the  wind  passes.  They  will  make  me  Prime  Min- 
ister like  Lord  Beaconsfield,  only  he  was  no  true  lover  of  his 
people,  he  was  not  the  Messiah.  To  hell  with  the  rich  bankers 
and  the  stockbrokers  —  we  want  them  not.  We  will  free  our- 
selves." 

The  extraordinary  vigor  of  the  poet's  language  and  gestures 
told.  Only  half  comprehending,  the  majority  stamped  and 
huzzahed.  Pinchas  swelled  visibly.  His  slim,  lithe  form,  five 
and  a  quarter  feet  high,  towered  over  the  assembly.  His  com- 
plexion was  as  burnished  copper,  his  eyes  flashed  flame. 

"Yes,  brethren,"  he  resumed.  "These  Anglo-Jewish  swine 
trample  unheeding  on  the  pearls  of  poetry  and  scholarship,  they 
choose  for  Ministers  men  with  four  mistresses,  for  Chief  Rabbis 
hypocrites  who  cannot  even  write  the  holy  tongue  grammatically, 
for  Dayanim  men  who  sell  their  daughters  to  the  rich,  for  Mem- 
bers of  Parliament  stockbrokers  who  cannot  speak  English,  for 
philanthropists  greengrocers  who  embezzle  funds.  Let  us  have 
nothing  to  do  with  these  swine  —  Moses  our  teacher  forbade  it. 
(Laughter.)  I  will  be  the  Member  for  Whitechapel.  See,  my 
name  Melchitsedek  Pinchas  already  makes  AL  P.  —  it  was  fore- 
ordained. If  every  letter  of  the  Torah  has  its  special  meaning, 
and  none  was  put  by  chance,  why  should  the  finger  of  heaven 
not  have  written  my  name  thus  :  M.  P.  —  Melchitsedek  Pinchas. 


WITH   THE   STRIKERS.  247 

Ah,  our  brother  Wolf  speaks  truth  —  wisdom  issues  from  his  Hps. 
Put  aside  your  petty  quarrels  and  unite  in  working  for  my  elec- 
tion to  Parliament.  Thus  and  thus  only  shall  you  be  redeemed 
from  bondage,  made  from  beasts  of  burden  into  men,  from  slaves 
to  citizens,  from  false  Jews  to  true  Jews.  Thus  and  thus  only 
shall  you  eat,  drink  and  be  satisfied,  and  thank  me  for  bringing 
you  out  of  the  land  of  bondage.  Thus  and  thus  only  shall 
Judaism  cover  the  w'orld  as  the  waters  cover  the  sea." 

The  fervid  peroration  overbalanced  the  audience,  and  from  all 
sides  except  the  platform  applause  warmed  the  poet's  ears.  He 
resumed  his  seat,  and  as  he  did  so  he  automatically  drew  out  a 
match  and  a  cigar,  and  lit  the  one  with  the  other.  Instantly  the 
applause  dwindled,  died ;  there  was  a  moment  of  astonished 
silence,  then  a  roar  of  execration.  The  bulk  of  the  audience,  as 
Pinchas,  sober,  had  been  shrewd  enough  to  see,  was  still  ortho- 
dox. This  public  desecration  of  the  Sabbath  by  smoking  was 
intolerable.  How  should  the  God  of  Israel  aid  the  spread  of 
Socialism  and  the  shorter  hours  movement  and  the  rise  of  prices 
a  penny  on  a  coat,  if  such  deviPs  incense  were  borne  to  His 
nostrils  ?  Their  vague  admiration  of  Pinchas  changed  into  defi- 
nite distrust.  ^^  Epiko2i?-os,  Epikoiiros^  MesJmmad^''''  resounded 
from  all  sides.  The  poet  looked  wonderingly  about  him,  failing 
to  grasp  the  situation.  Simon  Wolf  saw  his  opportunity.  With 
an  angry  jerk  he  knocked  the  glowing  cigar  from  between  the 
poef  s  teeth.     There  was  a  yell  of  delight  and  approbation. 

Wolf  jumped  to  his  feet.  "  Brothers,''  he  roared,  ''  you  know 
I  am  not  froom,  but  I  will  not  have  anybody  else's  feelings 
trampled  upon."  So  saying,  he  ground  the  cigar  under  his 
heel. 

Immediately  an  abortive  blow  from  the  poet's  puny  arm 
swished  the  air.  Pinchas  was  roused,  the  veins  on  his  forehead 
swelled,  his  heart  thumped  rapidly  in  his  bosom.  Wolf  shook 
his  knobby  fist  laughingly  at  the  poet,  who  made  no  further 
efifort  to  use  any  other  weapon  of  offence  but  his  tongue. 

"Hypocrite!"  he  shrieked.  "Liar!  Machiavelli !  Child  of 
the  separation!  A  black  year  on  thee!  An  evil  spirit  in  thy 
bones  and  in  the  bones  of  thy  father  and  mother.     Thy  father 


248  CHILDREN   OF  THE    GHETTO. 

was  a  proselyte  and  thy  mother  an  abomination.  The  curses  of 
Deuteronomy  light  on  thee.  May  est  thou  become  covered  with 
boils  like  Job!  And  you/'  he  added,  turning  on  the  audience, 
"  pack  of  Men-of-the-earth !  Stupid  animals !  How  much  longer 
will  you  bend  your  neck  to  the  yoke  of  superstition  while  your 
bellies  are  empty?  Who  says  I  shall  not  smoke?  Was  tobacco 
known  to  Moses  our  Teacher?  If  so  he  would  have  enjoyed  it 
on  the  SJiabbos.  He  was  a  wise  man  like  me.  Did  the  Rabbis 
know  of  it?  No,  fortunately,  else  they  were  so  stupid  they 
would  have  forbidden  it.  You  are  all  so  ignorant  that  you 
think  not  of  these  things.  Can  any  one  show  me  where  it 
stands  that  we  must  not  smoke  on  Shabbos?  Is  not  SJiabbos  a 
day  of  rest,  and  how  can  we  rest  if  we  smoke  not  ?  I  believe 
with  the  Baal-Shem  that  God  is  more  pleased  when  I  smoke  my 
cigar  than  at  the  prayers  of  all  the  stupid  Rabbis.  How  dare 
you  rob  me  of  my  cigar  — is  that  keeping  Shabbos  ?  "  He  turned 
back  to  Wolf,  and  tried  to  push  his  foot  from  off  the  cigar. 
There  was  a  brief  struggle.  A  dozen  men  leaped  on  the  plat- 
form and  dragged  the  poet  away  from  his  convulsive  clasp  of  the 
labor-leader's  leg.  A  few  opponents  of  Wolf  on  the  platform 
cried,  "  Let  the  man  alone,  give  him  his  cigar,"  and  thrust  them- 
selves amongst  the  invaders.  The  hall  was  in  tumult.  From 
the  gallery  the  voice  of  Mad  Davy  resounded  again  : 

"  Cursed  sweaters  —  stealing  men's  brains  —  darkness  and 
filth  —  curse  them!  Blow  them  up!  as  we  blew  up  Alexander. 
Curse  them ! " 

Pinchas  was  carried,  shrieking  hysterically,  and  striving  to 
bite  the  arms  of  his  bearers,  through  the  tumultuous  crowd, 
amid  a  little  ineffective  opposition,  and  deposited  outside  the 
door. 

Wolf  made  another  speech,  sealing  the  impression  he  had  made- 
Then  the  poor  narrow-chested  pious  men  went  home  through 
the  cold  air  to  recite  the  Song  of  Solomon  in  their  stuffy  back- 
rooms and  garrets.  '•  Behold  thou  art  fair,  my  love,"  they 
intoned  in  a  strange  chant.  ''  Behold  thou  art  fair,  thou  hast 
doves'  eyes.  Behold  thou  art  fair,  my  beloved,  yea  pleasant ; 
also  our  couch  is  green.     The  beams  of  our  house  are  cedar  and 


THE  HOPE   EXTINCT.  249 

our  rafters  are  fir.  For  lo,  the  winter  is  past,  the  rain  is  over 
and  gone ;  the  flowers  appear  upon  the  earth ;  the  time  of  the 
singing  of  birds  is  come  and  the  voice  of  the  turtle  is  heard  in 
our  land.  Thy  plants  are  an  orchard  of  pomegranates,  with 
pleasant  fruits,  calamus,  cinnamon  with  all  trees  of  frankincense  ; 
myrrh  and  aloe  with  all  the  chief  spices  ;  a  fountain  of  gardens ; 
a  well  of  living  waters  and  streams  from  Lebanon.  Awake,  O 
north  wind  and  come,  thou  south,  blow  upon  my  garden  that  the 
spices  thereof  may  flow  out." 

CHAPTER  XX. 

THE   HOPE   EXTINCT. 

The  strike  came  to  an  end  soon  after.  To  the  delight  of  Mel- 
chitsedek  Pinchas,  Gideon,  M.  P.,  intervened  at  the  eleventh 
hour,  unceremoniously  elbowing  Simon  Wolf  out  of  his  central 
position.  A  compromise  was  arranged  and  jubilance  and  tran- 
quillity reigned  for  some  months,  till  the  corruptions  of  competi- 
tive human  nature  brought  back  the  old  state  of  things  —  for 
employers  have  quite  a  diplomatic  reverence  for  treaties  and  the 
brotherly  love  of  employees  breaks  down  under  the  strain  of  sup- 
porting families.  Rather  to  his  own  surprise  Moses  Ansell 
found  himself  in  work  at  least  three  days  a  week,  the  other  three 
being  spent  in  hanging  round  the  workshop  waiting  for  it.  It  is 
an  uncertain  trade,  is  the  manufacture  of  slops,  which  was  all 
Moses  was  fitted  for,  but  if  you  are  not  at  hand  you  may  miss 
the  "work"  when  it  does  come. 

It  never  rains  but  it  pours,  and  so  more  luck  came  to  the 
garret  of  No.  i  Royal  Street.  Esther  won  five  pounds  at  school. 
It  was  the  Henry  Goldsmith  prize,  a  new  annual  prize  for  gen- 
eral knowledge,  instituted  by  a  lady  named  Mrs.  Henry  Gold- 
smith who  had  just  joined  the  committee,  and  the  semi-divine 
person  herself — a  surpassingly  beautiful  radiant  being,  like  a 
princess  in  a  fairy  tale  —  personally  congratulated  her  upon  her 
success.  The  money  was  not  available  for  a  year,  but  the  neigh- 
bors hastened  to  congratulate  the  family  on  its  rise  to  wealth. 


250  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

Even  Levi  Jacobus  visits  became  more  frequent,  though  this 
could  scarcely  be  ascribed  to  mercenary  motives. 

The  Belcovitches  recognized  their  improved  status  so  far  as  to 
send  to  borrow  some  salt ;  for  the  colony  of  No.  i  Royal  Street 
carried  on  an  extensive  system  of  mutual  accommodation,  coals, 
potatoes,  chunks  of  bread,  saucepans,  needles,  wood-choppers,  all 
passing  daily  to  and  fro.  Even  garments  and  jewelry  were  lent 
on  great  occasions,  and  when  that  dear  old  soul  Mrs.  Simons 
went  to  a  wedding  she  was  decked  out  in  contributions  from  a 
dozen  wardrobes.  The  Ansells  themselves  were  too  proud  to 
borrow  though  they  were  not  above  lending. 

It  was  early  morning  and  Moses  in  his  big  phylacteries  was 
droning  his  orisons.  His  mother  had  had  an  attack  of  spasms 
and  so  he  was  praying  at  home  to  be  at  hand  in  case  of  need. 
Everybody  was  up,  and  Moses  was  superintending  the  household 
even  while  he  was  gabbling  psalms.  He  never  minded  breaking 
off  his  intercourse  with  Heaven  to  discuss  domestic  affairs,  for 
he  was  on  free  and  easy  terms  with  the  powers  that  be,  and 
there  was  scarce  a  prayer  in  the  liturgy  which  he  would  not  inter- 
rupt to  reprimand  Solomon  for  lack  of  absorption  in  the  same. 
The  exception  was  the  A^nidah  or  eighteen  Blessings,  so-called 
because  there  are  twenty-two  This  section  must  be  said  stand- 
ing and  inaudibly  and  when  Moses  was  engaged  upon  it,  a  mes- 
sage from  an  earthly  monarch  would  have  extorted  no  reply  from 
him.  There  were  other  sacred  silences  which  Moses  would  not 
break  save  of  dire  necessity  and  then  only  by  talking  Hebrew ; 
but  the  Aniidah  was  the  silence  of  silences.  This  was  why  the 
utterly  unprecedented  arrival  of  a  telegraph  boy  did  not  move  him. 
Not  even  Esther's  cry  of  alarm  when  she  opened  the  telegram 
had  any  visible  effect  upon  him.  though  in  reality  he  whispered 
off  his  prayer  at  a  record-beating  rate  and  duly  danced  three 
times  on  his  toes  with  spasmodic  celerity  at  the  finale. 

"  Father, ■•'  said  Esther,  the  never  before  received  species  of 
letter  trembling  in  her  hand, "  we  must  go  at  once  to  see  Benjy. 
He  is  very  ill." 

"  Has  he  written  to  say  so?  " 

"No,  this  is  a  telegram.     I  have  read  of  such.     Oh!  perhaps 


THE  HOPE  EXTINCT.  251 

he  is  dead.  It  is  always  so  in  books.  They  break  the  news  by 
saying  the  dead  are  still  alive.'"  Her  tones  died  away  in  a  sob. 
The  children  clustered  round  her  —  Rachel  and  Solomon  fought 
for  the  telegram  in  their  anxiety  to  read  it.  Ikey  and  Sarah 
stood  grave  and  interested.  The  sick  grandmother  sat  up  in 
bed  excited. 

"  He  never  showed  me  his  '■  four  corners,' "  she  moaned. 
"  Perhaps  he  did  not  wear  the  fringes  at  all.'" 

"Father,  dost  thou  hear?"  said  Esther,  for  Moses  Ansell  w^as 
fingering  the  russet  envelope  with  a  dazed  air.  "We  must  go  to 
the  Orphanage  at  once." 

"  Read  it!     What  stands  in  the  letter?  "  said  Moses  Ansell. 
She   took    the    telegram   from  the    hands    of  Solomon.     "It 
stands,  '  Come  up  at  once.     Your  son  Benjamin  very  ill.''  " 

"Tu!  Tu!  Tu!"  clucked  Moses.  "  The  poor  child.  But  how 
can  we  go  up?  Thou  canst  not  w^alk  there.  It  will  take  me 
more  than  three  hours.'" 

His  praying-shawl  slid  from  his  shoulders  in  his  agitation. 
"  Thou  must  not  walk,  either!  "  cried  Esther  excitedly.     "  We 
must  get  to  him  at  once!     Who  knows  if  he  will  be  alive  when 
we  come  ?     We  must  go  by  train  from  London  Bridge  the  way 
Benjy  came  that  Sunday.     Oh,  my  poor  Benjy!  " 

"  Give  me  back  the  paper,  Esther,"  interrupted  Solomon,  taking 
it  from  her  limp  hand.     "The  boys  have  never  seen  a  telegram." 
"  But  we   cannot  spare  the   money,"  urged  Moses  helplessly. 
"  We  have  just  enough  money  to  get  along  with  to-day.     Solo- 
mon, go   on  with   thy   prayers ;    thou  seizest    every   excuse  to 
interrupt  them.     Rachel,  go  away  from  him.     Thou  art  also  a 
disturbing  Satan  to  him.     I  do  not  w^onder  his  teacher  flogged 
him  black  and  blue  yesterday  —  he  is  a  stubborn  and  rebellious 
son  who  should  be  stoned,  according  to  Deuteronomy." 
"  We  must  do  without  dinner,"  said  Esther  impulsively. 
Sarah  sat  down  on  the  floor  and  howled  "  Woe  is  me!     Woe 
is  me! " 

"I  didden  touch  'er,"  cried  Ikey  in  indignant  bewilderment. 
"•Tain't    Ikey!"   sobbed    Sarah.     "Little    Tharah   wants   'er 
dinner." 


252  CHILDREN   OF   THE    GHETTO. 

"Thou  hearest?"  said  Moses  pitifully.  "How  can  we  spare 
the  money?  " 

"  How  much  is  it? ""  asked  Esther. 

"  It  will  be  a  shilling  each  there  and  back,''  replied  Moses,  who 
from  his  long  periods  of  peregrination  was  a  connoisseur  in 
fares.  "  How  can  we  afford  it  when  I  lose  a  morning's  work  into 
the  bargain  ?  ■" 

"  No,  what  talkest  thou  ? ''  said  Esther.  "  Thou  art  looking  a 
few  months  ahead  —  thou  deemest  perhaps,  I  am  already  twelve. 
It  will  be  only  sixpence  for  me.'' 

Moses  did  not  disclaim  the  implied  compliment  to  his  rigid 
honesty  but  answered : 

"Where  is  my  head?  Of  course  thou  goest  half-price.  But 
even  so  where  is  the  eighteenpence  to  come  from  ?  " 

"  But  it  is  not  eighteenpence ! "  ejaculated  Esther  with  a  new 
inspiration.  Necessity  was  sharpening  her  wits  to  extraordinary 
acuteness.   "  We  need  not  take  return  tickets.   We  can  walk  back." 

"But  we  cannot  be  so  long  away  from  the  mother  —  both  of 
us,"  said  Moses.  "She,  too,  is  ill.  And  how  will  the  children 
do  without  thee?     I  will  go  by  myself." 

"  No,  I  must  see  Benjy!  "  Esther  cried. 

"  Be  not  so  stiff-necked,  Esther!  Besides,  it  stands  in  the 
letter  that  I  am  to  come  —  they  do  not  ask  thee.  Who  knows 
that  the  great  people  will  not  be  angry  if  I  bring  thee  with  me? 
I  dare  say  Benjamin  will  soon  be  better.  He  cannot  have  been 
ill  long." 

"But,  quick,  then,  father,  quick!"  cried  Esther,  yielding  to 
the  complex  difficulties  of  the  position.     "  Go  at  once." 

"  Immediately,  Esther.  Wait  only  till  I  have  finished  my 
prayers.     I  am  nearly  done." 

"No!  No!"  cried  Esther  agonized.  "Thou  prayest  so  much 
—  God  will  let  thee  off  a  little  bit  just  for  once.  Thou  must  go 
at  once  and  ride  both  ways,  else  how  shall  we  know  what  has 
happened?  I  will  pawn  my  new  prize  and  that  will  give  thee 
money  enough." 

"  Good!  "  said  Moses.  "While  thou  art  pledging  the  book  I 
shall  have  time  to  finish  daveningP     He  hitched  up  his  Talith 


THE  HOPE   EXTINCT.  253 

and  commenced  to  gabble  off,  "  Happy  are  they  who  dwell  in 
Thy  house ;  ever  shall  they  praise  Thee,  Selah,"  and  was 
already  saying,  "  And  a  Redeemer  shall  come  unto  Zion,"  by  the 
time  Esther  rushed  out  through  the  door  with  the  pledge.  It 
was  a  gaudily  bound  volume  called  '*  Treasures  of  Science,"  and 
Esther  knew  it  almost  by  heart,  having  read  it  twice  from  gilt 
cover  to  gilt  cover.  All  the  same,  she  would  miss  it  sorely. 
The  pawnbroker  lived  only  round  the  corner,  for  like  the  pub- 
lican he  springs  up  wherever  the  conditions  are  favorable. 
He  was  a  Christian  ;  by  a  curious  anomaly  the  Ghetto  does  not 
supply  its  own  pawnbrokers,  but  sends  them  out  to  the  provinces 
or  the  West  End.  Perhaps  the  business  instinct  dreads  the 
solicitation  of  the  racial. 

Esther's  pawnbroker  was  a  rubicund  portly  man.  He  knew 
the  fortunes  of  a  hundred  families  by  the  things  left  with  him  or 
taken  back.  It  was  on  his  stuffy  shelves  that  poor  Benjamin's 
coat  had  lain  compressed  and  packed  away  when  it  might  have 
had  a  beautiful  airing  in  the  grounds  of  the  Crystal  Palace.  It 
was  from  his  stuffy  shelves  that  Esther's  mother  had  redeemed 
it  —  a  day  after  the  fair  —  soon  to  be  herself  compressed  and 
packed  away  in  a  pauper's  coffin,  awaiting  in  silence  whatsoever 
Redemption  might  be.  The  best  coat  itself  had  long  since 
been  sold  to  a  ragman,  for  Solomon,  upon  whose  back  it  de- 
volved, when  Benjamin  was  so  happily  translated,  could  never 
be  got  to  keep  a  best  coat  longer  than  a  year,  and  when  a  best 
coat  is  degraded  to  every-day  wear  its  attrition  is  much  more 
than  six  times  as  rapid. 

'•  Good  mornen,  my  little  dear,"  said  the  rubicund  man. 
''You're  early  this  mornen."  The  apprentice  had,  indeed,  only 
just  taken  down  the  shutters.  ''What  can  I  do  for  you  to-day? 
You  look  pale,  my  dear;  what's  the  matter?" 

"  I  have  a  bran-new  seven  and  sixpenny  book,"  she  answered 
hurriedly,  passing  it  to  him. 

He  turned  instinctively  to  the  fly-leaf. 

"  Bran-new  book!  "  he  said  contemptuously.  "  '  Esther  Ansell 
—  For  improvement! '  When  a  book's  spiled  like  that,  what  can 
you  expect  for  it  ? " 


254  CHILDREN   OF   THE    GHETTO. 

"Why,  it's  the  inscription  that  makes  it  valuable/'  said  Esther 
tearfully. 

"  Maybe,"  said  the  rubicund  man  gruffly.  "  But  d'yer  suppose 
I  should  just  find  a  buyer  named  Esther  Ansell?  Do  you  sup- 
pose everybody  in  the  world's  named  Esther  Ansell  or  is  capable 
of  improvement  ? " 

"  No,"  breathed  Esther  dolefully.  "  But  I  shall  take  it  out 
myself  soon." 

"In  this  world,"  said  the  rubicund  man,  shaking  his  head 
sceptically,  "there  ain't  never  no  knowing.  Well,  how  much 
d'yer  want  ? " 

"  I  only  want  a  shilling,"  said  Esther,  "  and  threepence,"  she 
added  as  a  happy  thought. 

"All  right,"  said  the  rubicund  man  softened.  "I  won't 
'aggie  this  mornen.  You  look  quite  knocked  up.  Here  you 
are ! "  and  Esther  darted  out  of  the  shop  with  the  money 
clasped  tightly  in  her  palm. 

Moses  had  folded  his  phylacteries  with  pious  primness  and 
put  them  away  in  a  little  bag,  and  he  was  hastily  swallowing 
a  cup  of  coffee. 

"  Here  is  the  shilling,"  she  cried.  "  And  twopence  extra  for 
the  'bus  to  London  Bridge.  Quick!"  She  put  the  ticket  away 
carefully  among  its  companions  in  a  discolored  leather  purse  her 
father  had  once  picked  up  in  the  street,  and  hurried  him  off. 
When  his  steps  ceased  on  the  stairs,  she  yearned  to  run  after 
him  and  go  with  him,  but  Ikey  was  clamoring  for  breakfast  and 
the  children  had  to  run  off  to  school.  She  remained  at  home 
herself,  for  the  grandmother  groaned  heavily.  When  the  other 
children  had  gone  off  she  tidied  up  the  vacant  bed  and  smoothed 
the  old  woman's  pillows.  Suddenly  Benjamin's  reluctance  to 
have  his  father  exhibited  before  his  new  companions  recurred  to 
her ;  she  hoped  Moses  would  not  be  needlessly  obtrusive  and 
felt  that  if  she  had  gone  with  him  she  might  have  supplied  tact 
in  this  direction.  She  reproached  herself  for  not  having  made 
him  a  bit  more  presentable.  She  should  have  spared  another 
halfpenny  for  a  new  collar,  and  seen  that  he  was  washed ;  but 
in  the  rush  and  alarm  all  thoughts  of  propriety  had  been  sub- 


THE   HOPE   EXTLVCT.  255 

merged.  Then  her  thoughts  went  off  at  a  tangent  and  she  saw 
her  class-roonij  where  new  things  were  being  taught,  and  new 
marks  gained.  It  galled  her  to  think  she  was  missing  both. 
She  felt  so  lonely  in  the  company  of  her  grandmother,  she  could 
have  gone  downstairs  and  cried  on  Dutch  Debby's  musty  lap. 
Then  she  strove  to  picture  the  room  where  Benjy  was  lying,  but 
her  imagination  lacked  the  data.  She  would  not  let  herself 
think  the  brilliant  Benjamin  was  dead,  that  he  would  be  sewn 
up  in  a  shroud  just  like  his  poor  mother,  who  had  no  literary 
talent  whatever,  but  she  wondered  whether  he  was  groaning  like 
the  grandmother.  And  so,  half  distracted,  pricking  up  her  ears 
at  the  slightest  creak  on  the  stairs,  Esther  waited  for  news  of 
her  Benjy.  The  hours  dragged  on  and  on,  and  the  children 
coming  home  at  one  found  dinner  ready  but  Esther  still  waiting. 
A  dusty  sunbeam  streamed  in  through  the  garret  window  as 
though  to  give  her  hope. 

Benjamin  had  been  beguiled  from  his  books  into  an  unaccus- 
tomed game  of  ball  in  the  cold  March  air.  He  had  taken  off  his 
jacket  and  had  got  very  hot  with  his  unwonted  exertions.  A 
reactionary  chill  followed.  Benjamin  had  a  slight  cold,  which 
being  ignored,  developed  rapidly  into  a  heavy  one,  still  without 
inducing  the  energetic  lad  to  ask  to  be  put  upon  the  sick  list. 
Was  not  the  publishing  day  of  Our  Own  at  hand.-* 

The  cold  became  graver  with  the  same  rapidity,  and  almost  as 
soon  as  the  boy  had  made  complaint  he  was  in  a  high  fevei^  and 
the  official  doctor  declared  that  pneumonia  had  set  in.  In  the 
night  Benjamin  was  delirious,  and  the  nurse  summoned  the  doc- 
tor, and  next  morning  his  condition  was  so  critical  that  his  father 
was  telegraphed  for.  There  was  little  to  be  done  by  science  — 
all  depended  on  the  patient's  constitution.  Alas  !  the  four  years 
of  plenty  and  country  breezes  had  not  counteracted  the  eight  and 
three-quarter  years  of  privation  and  foul  air,  especially  in  a  lad 
more  intent  on  emulating  Dickens  and  Thackeray  than  on  profit- 
ing by  the  advantages  of  his  situation. 

When  Moses  arrived  he  found  his  boy  tossing  restlessly  in  a 
little  bed,  in  a  private  little  room  away  from  the  great  dormitories. 
"The  matron"  —  a  sweet-faced  young  lady — was  bending  ten- 


256  CHILDREN   OF  THE    GHETTO. 

derly  over  him,  and  a  nurse  sat  at  the  bedside.  The  doctor 
stood  —  waiting  —  at  the  foot  of  the  bed.  Moses  took  his  boy's 
hand.  The  matron  silently  stepped  aside.  Benjamin  stared  at 
him  with  wide,  unrecognizing  eyes. 

^'- Nu,  how  goes  it,  Benjamin?"  cried  Moses  in  Yiddish,  with 
mock  heartiness. 

"  Thank  you,  old  Four-Eyes.  It's  very  good  of  you  to  come. 
I  always  said  there  mustn't  be  any  hits  at  you  in  the  paper.  I 
always  told  the  fellows  you  were  a  very  decent  chap." 

"What  says  he?"  asked  Moses,  turning  to  the  company.  "I 
cannot  understand  English." 

They  could  not  understand  his  own  question,  but  the  matron 
guessed  it.  She  tapped  her  forehead  and  shook  her  head  for 
reply.  Benjamin  closed  his  eyes  and  there  was  silence.  Pres- 
ently he  opened  them  and  looked  straight  at  his  father.  A 
deeper  crimson  mantled  on  the  flushed  cheek  as  Benjamin  beheld 
the  dingy  stooping  being  to  whom  he  owed  birth.  Moses  wore 
a  dirty  red  scarf  below  his  untrimmed  beard,  his  clothes  were 
greasy,  his  face  had  not  yet  been  washed,  and  —  for  a  climax  — 
he  had  not  removed  his  hat,  which  other  considerations  than 
those  of  etiquette  should  have  impelled  him  to  keep  out  of  sight. 

"  I  thought  you  were  old  Four-Eyes,"  the  boy  murmured  in 
confusion —  "  Wasn't  he  here  just  now?  " 

"  Go  and  fetch  Mr.  Coleman,"  said  the  matron  to  the  nurse, 
half-s*miling  through  tears  at  her  own  knowledge  of  the  teacher's 
nickname  and  wondering  what  endearing  term  she  was  herself 
known  by. 

"  Cheer  up,  Benjamin,"  said  his  father,  seeing  his  boy  had 
become  sensible  of  his  presence.  "  Thou  wilt  be  all  right  soon. 
Thou  hast  been  much  worse  than  this." 

"What  does  he  say?"  asked  Benjamin,  turning  his  eyes 
towards  the  matron. 

"  He  says  he  is  sorry  to  see  you  so  bad,"  said  the  matron,  at  a 
venture. 

"  But  I  shall  be  up  soon,  won't  I  ?  I  can't  have  Oiir  Own 
delayed,"  whispered  Benjamin. 

"  Don't  worry  about  Our  Own.,  my  poor  boy,"  murmured  the 


THE  HOPE  EXTINCT.  257 

matron,  pressing  his  foreliead.  Moses  respectfully  made  way 
for  her. 

"  What  says  he?  '■"  he  asked.  The  matron  repeated  the  words, 
but  Moses  could  not  understand  the  English. 

Old  Four-Eyes  arrived  —  a  mild  spectacled  young  man.  He 
looked  at  the  doctor,  and  the  doctor's  eye  told  him  all. 

"  Ah,  Mr.  Coleman,"  said  Benjamin,  with  joyous  huskiness, 
"  you'll  see  that  Onr  Own  comes  out  this  week  as  usual.  Tell 
Jack  Simmonds  he  must  not  forget  to  rule  black  lines  around  the 
page  containing  Bmno's  epitaph.  Bony-nose  —  I  —  I  mean  Mr. 
Bernstein,  wrote  it  for  us  in  dog- Latin.  Isn't  it  a  lark?  Thick, 
black  lines,  tell  him.  He  was  a  good  dog  and  only  bit  one  boy 
in  his  life." 

"  All  right,  ril  see  to  it,"  old  Four-Eyes  assured  him  with 
answering  huskiness. 

"What  says  he?"  helplessly  inquired  Moses,  addressing  him- 
self to  the  newcomer. 

"  Isn't  it  a  sad  case,  Mr.  Coleman?  "  said  the  matron,  in  a  low 
tone.     "  They  can't  understand  each  other." 

"  You  ought  to  keep  an  interpreter  on  the  premises,"  said  the 
doctor,  blowing  his  nose.  Coleman  struggled  with  himself.  He 
knew  the  jargon  to  perfection,  for  his  parents  spoke  it  still,  but 
he  had  always  posed  as  being  ignorant  of  it. 

"Tell  my  father  to  go  home,  and  not  to  bother;  I'm  all  right 
—  only  a  little  weak,"  whispered  Benjamin. 

Coleman  was  deeply  perturbed.  He  was  wondering  whether 
he  should  plead  guilty  to  a  little  knowledge,  when  a  change  of 
expression  came  over  the  wan  face  on  the  pillow.  The  doctor 
came  and  felt  the  boy's  pulse. 

"  No,  I  don't  want  to  hear  that  Maaseh,''''  cried  Benjamin. 
"  Tell  me  about  the  Sambatyon,  father,  which  refuses  to  flow  on 
Shabbos.'''' 

He  spoke  Yiddish,  grown  a  child  again.  Moses's  face  lit  up 
with  joy.  His  eldest  born  had  returned  to  intelligibility.  There 
was  hope  still  then.  A  sudden  burst  of  sunshine  flooded  the 
room.  In  London  the  sun  would  not  break  through  the  clouds  for 
some  hours.     Moses  leaned  over  the  pillow,  his  face  working  with 


258  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

blended  emotions.     He  let  a  hot  tear  fall  on  his  boy's  upturned 
face. 

"  Hush,  hush,  my  little  Benjamin,  don't  cry,"  said  Benjamin, 
and  began  to  sing  in  his  mother's  jargon : 

"  Sleep,  little  father,  sleep, 
Thy  father  shall  be  a  Rav, 
Thy  mother  shall  bring  little  apples, 
Blessings  on  thy  little  head." 

Moses  saw  his  dead  Gittel  lulling  his  boy  to  sleep.  Blinded 
by  his  tears,  he  did  not  see  that  they  were  falling  thick  upon  the 
little  white  face. 

"  Nay,  dry  thy  tears,  I  tell  thee,  my  little  Benjamin,"  said 
Benjamin,  in  tones  more  tender  and  soothing,  and  launched  into 
the  strange  wailing  melody  : 

"  Alas,  woe  is  me ! 
How  wretched  to  be 
Driven  away  and  banished, 
Yet  so  young,  from  thee." 

"And  Joseph's  mother  called  to  him  from  the  grave :  Be  com- 
forted, my  son,  a  great  future  shall  be  thine." 

"The  end  is  near,"  old  Four-Eyes  whispered  to  the  father  in 
jargon. 

Moses  trembled  from  head  to  foot.  "My  poor  lamb!  My 
poor  Benjamin,"  he  wailed.  "  I  thought  thou  wouldst  say 
Kaddish  after  me,  not  I  for  thee."  Then  he  began  to  recite 
quietly  the  Hebrew  prayers.  The  hat  he  should  have  removed 
was  appropriate  enough  now. 

Benjamin  sat  up  excitedly  in  bed  :  "  There's  mother,  Esther!  " 
he  cried  in  English.  "Coming  back  with  my  coat.  But  what's 
the  use  of  it  now?  " 

His  head  fell  back  again.  Presently  a  look  of  yearning  came 
over  the  face  so  full  of  boyish  beauty.  "Esther,"  he  said. 
"Wouldn't  you  like  to  be  in  the  green  country  to-day?  Look 
how  the  sun  shines." 

It  shone,  indeed,  with  deceptive  warmth,  bathing  in  gold  the 


THE  JARGON  PLAYERS.  259 

green  country  that  stretched  beyond,  and  dazzling  the  eyes 
of  the  dying  boy.  The  birds  twittered  outside  the  window. 
''Esther!  "  he  said,  wistfully,  "do  you  think  there'll  be  another 
funeral  soon? " 

The  matron  burst  into  tears  and  turned  away. 

"  Benjamin,"  cried  the  father,  frantically,  thinking  the  end  had 
come,  "  say  the  Shematigy 

The  boy  stared  at  him,  a  clearer  look  in  his  eyes. 

"  Say  the  Shemangl "  said  Moses  peremptorily.  The  word 
Shemang,  the  old  authoritative  tone,  penetrated  the  conscious- 
ness of  the  dying  boy. 

'"  Yes,  father,  I  was  just  going  to,"  he  grumbled,  submissively. 

They  repeated  the  last  declaration  of  the  dying  Israelite  to- 
gether. It  was  in  Hebrew^  ''  Hear,  O  Israel,  the  Lord  our  God, 
the  Lord  is  one.''^     Both  understood  that. 

Benjamin  lingered  on  a  few  more  minutes,  and  died  in  a  pain- 
less torpor. 

"  He  is  dead,"  said  the  doctor. 

"Blessed  be  the  true  Judge,"  said  Moses.  He  rent  his  coat, 
and  closed  the  staring  eyes.  Then  he  went  to  the  toilet  table 
and  turned  the  looking-glass  to  the  wall,  and  opened  the  win- 
dow and  emptied  the  jug  of  water  upon  the  green  sunlit  grass. 


CHAPTER   XXI. 

THE   JARGON   PLAYERS. 

"  No,  don't  stop  me,  Pinchas,"  said  Gabriel  Hamburg.  "  Pm 
packing  up,  and  I  shall  spend  my  Passover  in  Stockholm.  The 
Chief  Rabbi  there  has  discovered  a  manuscript  which  I  am  anx- 
ious to  see,  and  as  I  have  saved  up  a  little  money  I  shall  speed 
thither." 

"Ah,  he  pays  well,  that  boy-fool,  Raphael  Leon,"  said  Pin- 
chas,  emitting  a  lazy  ring  of  smoke. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  cried  Gabriel,  flushing  angrily.  "Do 
you  mean,  perhaps,  that  you  have  been  getting  money  out  of 
him?" 


260  CHILDREN  OF  THE    GHETTO. 

"  Precisely.  That  is  what  I  do  mean/'  said  the  poet  naively. 
"What  else?" 

"Well,  don't  let  me  hear  you  call  him  a  fool.  He  is  one  to 
send  you  money,  but  then  it  is  for  others  to  call  him  so.  That 
boy  will  be  a  great  man  in  Israel.  The  son  of  rich  English 
Jews  —  a  Harrow-boy,  yet  he  already  writes  Hebrew  almost 
grammatically." 

Pinchas  was  aware  of  this  fact ;  had  he  not  written  to  the  lad 
(in  response  to  a  crude  Hebrew  eulogium  and  a  crisp  Bank  of 
England  note)  :  "I  and  thou  are  the  only  two  people  in  England 
who  write  the  Holy  Tongue  grammatically." 

He  replied  now :  "  It  is  true ;  soon  he  will  vie  with  me  and 
you." 

The  old  scholar  took  snuff  impatiently.  The  humors  of  Pin- 
chas were  beginning  to  pall  upon  him. 

"Good-bye,"  he  said  again. 

"  No,  wait  yet  a  little,"  said  Pinchas,  buttonholing  him  reso- 
lutely. "I  want  to  show  you  my  acrostic  on  Simon  Wolf;  ah! 
I  will  shoot  him,  the  miserable  labor-leader,  the  wretch  who 
embezzles  the  money  of  the  SociaHst  fools  who  tmst  him.  Aha! 
it  will  sting  like  Juvenal,  that  acrostic." 

"  I  haven't  time,"  said  the  gentle  savant,  beginning  to  lose  his 
temper. 

"Well,  have  I  time?  I  have  to  compose  a  three-act  comedy 
by  to-morrow  at  noon.  I  expect  I  shall  have  to  sit  up  all  niglit 
to  get  it  done  in  time."  Then,  anxious  to  complete  the  concili- 
ation of  the  old  snuff-and-pepper-box,  as  he  mentally  christened 
him  for  his  next  acrostic,  he  added :  "  If  there  is  anything  in 
this  manuscript  that  you  cannot  decipher  or  understand,  a  letter 
to  me,  care  of  Reb  Shemuel,  will  always  find  me.  Somehow  I 
have  a  special  genius  for  filling  up  lacuna  in  manuscripts.  You 
remember  the  famous  discovery  that  I  made  by  rewriting  the  six 
lines  torn  out  of  the  first  page  of  that  Midrash  I  discovered  in 
Cyprus." 

"  Yes,  those  six  lines  proved  it  thoroughly,"  sneered  the 
savant. 

"Aha!     You  see!"  said  the  poet,  a  gratified  smile  pervading 


THE   JARGON  PLAYERS.  261 

his  dusky  features.  "But  I  must  tell  you  of  this  comedy  —  it 
will  be  a  satirical  picture  (in  the  style  of  Moliere,  only  sharper) 
of  Anglo-Jewish  Society.  The  Rev.  Elkan  Benjamin,  with  his 
four  mistresses,  they  will  all  be  there,  and  Gideon,  the  Man-of- 
the-Earth,  M.  P.,  —  ah,  it  will  be  terrible.  If  I  could  only  get 
them  to  see  it  performed,  they  should  have  free  passes.'" 

"  No,  shoot  them  first ;  it  would  be  more  merciful.  But  w^here 
is  this  comedy  to  be  played?"  asked  Hamburg  curiously. 

"  At  the  Jargon  Theatre,  the  great  theatre  in  Prince's  Street, 
the  only  real  national  theatre  in  England.  The  English  stage  — 
Drury  Lane  —  pooh!  It  is  not  in  harmony  with  the  people;  it 
does  not  express  them." 

Hamburg  could  not  help  smiling.  He  knew  the  wretched 
little  hall,  since  tragically  famous  for  a  massacre  of  innocents, 
victims  to  the  fatal  cry  of  fire  —  more  deadly  than  fiercest  flame. 

"  But  how  will  your  audience  understangl  it?  "  he  asked. 

''Aha!"  said  the  poet,  laying  his  finger  on  his  nose  and  grin- 
ning. "They  will  understand.  They  know  the  corruptions  of 
our  society.  All  this  conspiracy  to  crush  me,  to  hound  me  out 
of  England  so  that  ignoramuses  may  prosper  and  hypocrites 
wax  fat  —  do  you  think  it  is  not  the  talk  of  the  Ghetto?  What! 
Shall  it  be  the  talk  of  Berlin,  of  Constantinople,  of  Mogadore, 
of  Jerusalem,  of  Paris,  and  here  it  shall  not  be  known?  Besides, 
the  leading  actress  will  speak  a  prologue.  Ah!  she  is  beautiful, 
beautiful  as  Lilith,  as  the  Queen  of  Sheba,  as  Cleopatra!  And 
how  she  acts!  She  and  Rachel  —  both  Jewesses!  Think  of  it! 
Ah,  we  are  a  great  people.  If  I  could  tell  you  the  secrets  of  her 
eyes  as  she  looks  at  me  —  but  no,  you  are  dry  as  dust,  a  creature 
of  prose!  And  there  will  be  an  orchestra,  too,  for  Pesach  Wein- 
gott  has  promised  to  play  the  overture  on  his  fiddle.  How  he 
stirs  the  soul!     It  is  like  David  playing  before  Saul." 

"  Yes,  but  it  won't  be  javelins  the  people  will  throw,"  mur- 
mured Hamburg,  adding  aloud :  "  I  suppose  you  have  written 
the  music  of  this  overture." 

"No,  I  cannot  write  music,"  said  Pinchas. 

"Good  heavens!  You  don't  say  so?"  gasped  Gabriel  Ham- 
burg.    "  Let  that  be  my  last  recollection  of  you!     No!     Don't 


262  CHILDREN  OF  THE    GHETTO. 

say  another  word!  Don't  spoil  it!  Good-bye.'"  And  he  tore 
himself  away,  leaving  the  poet  bewildered. 

"Mad!  mad!"  said  Pinchas,  tapping  his  brow  significantly; 
"  mad,  the  old  snufF-and-pepper-box."  He  smiled  at  the  recol- 
lection of  his  latest  phrase.  '"These  scholars  stagnate  so. 
They  see  not  enough  of  the  women.  Ha!  I  will  go  and  see 
my  actress.*' 

He  threw  out  his  chest,  puffed  out  a  volume  of  smoke,  and 
took  his  way  to  Petticoat  Lane.  The  compatriot  of  Rachel  was 
wrapping  up  a  scrag  of  mutton.  She  was  a  butchers  daughter 
and  did  not  even  wield  the  chopper,  as  Mrs.  Siddons  is  reputed 
to  have  flourished  the  domestic  table-knife.  She  was  a  simple, 
amiable  girl,  who  had  stepped  into  the  position  of  lead  in  the 
stock  jargon  company  as  a  way  of  eking  out  her  pocket-money, 
and  because  there  was  no  one  else  who  wanted  the  post.  She 
was  rather  plain  excepj:  when  be-rouged  and  be-pencilled.  The 
company  included  several  tailors  and  tailoresses  of  talent,  and 
the  low  comedian  was  a  Dutchman  who  sold  herrings.  They 
all  had  the  gift  of  improvisation  more  developed  than  memory, 
and  consequently  availed  themselves  of  the  faculty  that  worked 
easier.  The  repertory  was  written  by  goodness  knew  whom, 
and  was  very  extensive.  It  embraced  all  the  species  enumer- 
ated by  Polonius,  including  comic  opera,  which  was  not  known 
to  the  Danish  saw-monger.  There  was  nothing  the  company 
would  not  have  undertaken  to  play  or  have  come  out  of  with  a 
fair  measure  of  success.  Some  of  the  plays  were  on  Biblical  sub- 
jects, but  only  a  minority.  There  were  also  plays  in  rhyme, 
though  Yiddish  knows  not  blank  verse.  Melchitsedek  accosted 
his  interpretess  and  made  sheep's  eyes  at  her.  But  an  actress 
who  serves  in  a  butchers  shop  is  doubly  accustomed  to  such, 
and  being  busy  the  girl  paid  no  attention  to  the  poet,  though 
the  poet  was  paying  marked  attention  to  her. 

"  Kiss  me,  thou  beauteous  one,  the  gems  of  whose  crown 
are  foot-lights,"  said  the  poet,  when  the  custom  ebbed  for  a 
moment. 

"  If  thou  comest  near  me,"  said  the  actress  whirling  the  chop- 
per, "I'll  chop  thy  ugly  little  head  off." 


THE  JARGON  PLAYERS.  263 

"  Unless  thou  lendest  me  thy  lips  thou  shalt  not  play  in  my 
comedy/'  said  Pinchas  angrily. 

"  My  trouble!  "  said  the  leading  lady,  shrugging  her  shoulders. 

Pinchas  made  several  reappearances-  outside  the  open  shop, 
with  his  insinuative  finger  on  his  nose  and  his  insinuative  smile 
on  his  face,  but  in  the  end  went  away  with  a  flea  in  his  ear  and 
hunted  up  the  actor-manager,  the  only  person  who  made  any 
money,  to  speak  of,  out  of  the  performances.  That  gentleman 
had  not  yet  consented  to  produce  the  play  that  Pinchas  had 
ready  in  manuscript  and  which  had  been  coveted  by  all  the 
great  theatres  in  the  world,  but  which  he,  Pinchas,  had  reserved 
for  the  use  of  the  only  actor  in  Europe.  The  result  of  this 
interview  was  that  the  actor-manager  yielded  to  Pinchas's  solici- 
tations, backed  by  frequent  applications  of  poetic  finger  to  poetic 
nose. 

"  But,"  said  the  actor-manager,  with  a  sudden  recollection, 
"how  about  the  besom?  " 

"The  besom!  '^  repeated  Pinchas,  nonplussed  for  once. 

"Yes,  thou  sayest  thou  hast  seen  all  the  plays  I  have  pro- 
duced. Hast  thou  not  noticed  that  I  have  a  besom  in  all  my 
plays  ?  " 

"Aha!     Yes,  I  remember,"  said  Pinchas. 

^' An  old  garden-besom  it  is,"  said  the  actor-manager.  "And 
it  is  the  cause  of  all  my  luck."  He  took  up  a  house-broom  that 
stood  in  the  corner.  "  In  comedy  I  sweep  the  floor  with  it —  so 
—  and  the  people  grin;  in  comic-opera  I  beat  time  with  it  as  I 
sing  —  so  —  and  the  people  laugh;  in  farce  I  beat  my  mother- 
in-law  with  it  —  so  —  and  the  people  roar ;  in  tragedy  I  lean  upon 
it — so  —  and  the  people  thrill;  in  melodrama  I  sweep  away  the 
snow  with  it — so  —  and  the  people  burst  into  tears.  Usually  I 
have  my  plays  written  beforehand  and  the  authors  are  aware  of 
the  besom.  Dost  thou  think,"  he  concluded  doubtfully,  "that 
thou  hast  sufficient  ingenuity  to  work  in  the  besom  now  that  the 
play  is  written  ?  " 

Pinchas  put  his  finger  to  his  nose  and  smiled  reassuringly. 

"It  shall  be  all  besom,"  he  said. 

"  And  when  wilt  thou  read  it  to  me.'^" 


264  CHILDREN  OF  THE    GHETTO. 

"Will  to-morrow  this  time  suit  thee?  " 

"As  honey  a  bear.'" 

"  Good,  then!  "  said  Pinchas  ;  "  I  shall  not  fail." 

The  door  closed  upon  him.  In  another  moment  it  reopened 
a  bit  and  he  thrust  his  grinning  face  through  the  aperture. 

"Ten  per  cent,  of  the  receipts!"  he  said  with  his  cajoling 
digito-nasal  gesture. 

"  Certainly,"  rejoined  the  actor-manager  briskly.  "  After  pay- 
ing the  expenses  —  ten  per  cent,  of  the  receipts." 

"  Thou  wilt  not  forget?  " 

"I  shall  not  forget." 

Pinchas  strode  forth  into  the  street  and  lit  a  new  cis^ar  in  his 
exultation.  How  lucky  the  play  was  not  yet  written!  Now  he 
would  be  able  to  make  it  all  turn  round  the  axis  of  the  besom. 
"It  shall  be  all  besom!  "  His  own  phrase  rang  in  his  ears  like 
voluptuous  marriage  bells.  Yes,  it  should,  indeed,  be  all  besom. 
With  that  besom  he  would  sweep  all  his  enemies  —  all  the  foul 
conspirators  —  in  one  clean  sweep,  down,  down  to  Sheol.  He 
would  sweep  them  along  the  floor  with  it  —  so — and  grin; 
he  would  beat  time  to  their  yells  of  agony  —  so  —  and  laugh  ;  he 
would  beat  them  over  the  heads  —  so —  and  roar ;  he  would  lean 
upon  it  in  statuesque  greatness  —  so  —  and  thrill ;  he  would 
sweep  away  their  remains  with  it  —  so  —  and  weep  for  joy.  of 
countermining  and  quelling  the  long  persecution. 

All  night  he  wrote  the  play  at  railway  speed,  like  a  night 
express — puffing  out  volumes  of  smoke  as  he  panted  along. 
"  I  dip  my  pen  in  their  blood,''  he  said  from  time  to  time,  and 
threw  back  his  head  and  laughed  aloud  in  the  silence  of  the 
small  hours. 

Pinchas  had  a  good  deal  to  do  to  explain  the  next  day  to  the 
actor-manager  where  the  fun  came  in.  "Thou  dost  not  grasp 
all  the  allusions,  the  back-handed  slaps,  the  hidden  poniards  ; 
perhaps  not,"  the  author  acknowledged.  "  But  the  great  heart 
of  the  people  —  it  will  understand." 

The  actor-manager  was  unconvinced,  but  he  admitted  there 
was  a  good  deal  of  besom,  and  in  consideration  of  the  poet 
bating  his  terms  to  five  per  cent,  of  the  receipts  he  agreed  to 


THE  JARGON  PL  A  VERS.  265 

give  it  a  chance.  The  piece  was  billed  widely  in  several  streets 
under  the  title  of ''  The  Hornet  of  Judah/'  and  the  name  of  Mel- 
chitsedek  Pinchas  appeared  in  letters  of  the  size  stipulated  by 
the  finger  on  the  nose. 

But  the  leading  actress  threw  up  her  part  at  the  last  moment, 
disgusted  by  the  poet's  amorous  advances  ;  Pinchas  volunteered 
to  play  the  part  himself  and,  although  his  offer  was  rejected,  he 
attired  himself  in  skirts  and  streaked  his  complexion  with  red 
and  white  to  replace  the  promoted  second  actress,  and  shaved 
off  his  beard. 

But  in  spite  of  this  heroic  sacrifice,  the  gods  were  unpropitious. 
They  chaffed  the  poet  in  pohshed  Yiddish  throughout  the  first 
two  acts.  There  was  only  a  sprinkling  of  audience  (most  of  it 
paper)  in  the  dimly-lit  hall,  for  the  fame  of  the  great  writer  had 
not  spread  from  Berlin,  Mogadore,  Constantinople  and  the  rest 
of  the  universe. 

No  one  could  make  head  or  tail  of  the  piece  with  its  incessant 
play  of  occult  satire  against  clergymen  with  four  mistresses. 
Rabbis  who  sold  their  daughters,  stockbrokers  ignorant  of 
Hebrew  and  destitute  of  English,  greengrocers  blowing  Mes- 
sianic and  their  own  trumpets,  labor-leaders  embezzling  funds, 
and  the  like.  In  vain  the  actor-manager  swept  the  floor  with 
the  besom,  beat  time  with  the  besom,  beat  his  mother-in-law  with 
the  besom,  leaned  on  the  besom,  swept  bits  of  white  paper 
with  the  besom.  The  hall,  empty  of  its  usual  crowd,  was  fuller 
of  derisive  laughter.  At  last  the  spectators  tired  of  laughter  and 
the  rafters  re-echoed  with  hoots.  At  the  end  of  the  second  act, 
Melchitsedek  Pinchas  addressed  the  audience  from  the  stage,  in 
his  ample  petticoats,  his  brow  streaming  with  paint  and  perspi- 
ration. He  spoke  of  the  great  English  conspiracy  and  expressed 
his  grief  and  astonishment  at  finding  it  had  infected  the  entire 
Ghetto. 

There  was  no  third  act.  It  was  the  poet's  first  —  and  last  — 
appearance  on  any  stage. 


266  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

CHAPTER   XXII. 

"for   AULD   LANG   SYNE,  MY   DEAR." 

The  learned  say  that  Passover  was  a  Spring  festival  even  be- 
fore it  was  associated  witli  the  Redemption  from  Egypt,  but  there 
is  not  much  Nature  to  worship  in  the  Ghetto  and  the  historical 
elements  of  the  Festival  swamp  all  the  others.  Passover  still 
remains  the  most  picturesque  of  the  "  Three  Festivals  "  with  its 
entire  transmogrification  of  things  culinary,  its  thorough  taboo  of 
leaven.  The  audacious  archaeologist  of  the  thirtieth  century 
may  trace  back  the  origin  of  the  festival  to  the  Spring  Cleaning, 
the  annual  revel  of  the  English  housewife,  for  it  is  now  that  the 
Ghetto  whitewashes  itself  and  scrubs  itself  and  paints  itself  and 
pranks  itself  and  purifies  its  pans  in  a  baptism  of  fire.  Now,  too, 
the  publican  gets  unto  himself  a  white  sheet  and  suspends  it 
at  his  door  and  proclaims  that  he  sells  Kosher  7-u)n  by  permis- 
sion of  the  Chief  Rabbi.  Now  the  confectioner  exchanges  his 
"stuffed  monkeys/'  and  his  bolas  and  his  jam-puffs,  and  his 
cheese-cakes  for  unleavened  "  palavas,"  and  worsted  balls  and 
almond  cakes.  Time  was  when  the  Passover  dietary  was  re- 
stricted to  fruit  and  meat  and  vegetables,  but  year  by  year  the 
circle  is  expanding,  and  it  should  not  be  beyond  the  reach  of 
ingenuity  to  make  bread  itself  Passoverian.  It  is  now  that  the 
pious  shopkeeper  whose  store  is  tainted  with  leaven  sells  his 
business  to  a  friendly  Christian,  buying  it  back  at  the  conclusion 
of  the  festival.  Now  the  Shalotten  Shammos  is  busy  from 
morning  to  night  filling  up  charity-forms,  artistically  multiplying 
the  poor  man's  children  and  dividing  his  rooms.  Now  is  holo- 
caust made  of  a  people's  bread-crumbs,  and  now  is  the  national 
salutation  changed  to  "How  do  Wv^  Motsos  agree  with  you?" 
half  of  the  race  growing  facetious,  and  the  other  half  finical 
over  the  spotted  Passover  cakes. 

It  was  on  the  evening  preceding  the  opening  of  Passover 
that  Esther  Ansell  set  forth  to  purchase  a  shilling's  worth  of 


''FOR  AULD  LANG   SYNE,   MY  DEARr  267 

fish  in  Petticoat  Lane,  involuntarily  storing  up  in  her  mind 
vivid  impressions  of  the  bustling  scene.  It  is  one  of  the 
compensations  of  poverty  that  it  allows  no  time  for  mourning. 
Daily  duty  is  the  poor  man's  nepenthe. 

Esther  and  her  father  were  the  only  two  members  of  the 
family  upon  whom  the  death  of  Benjamin  made  a  deep  im- 
pression. He  had  been  so  long  away  from  home  that  he 
was  the  merest  shadow  to  the  rest.  But  Moses  bore  the 
loss  with  resignation,  his  emotions  discharging  themselves  in 
the  daily  Kaddish.  Blent  with  his  personal  grief  was  a  sor- 
row for  the  commentaries  lost  to  Hebrew  literature  by  his  boy's 
premature  transference  to  Paradise.  Esther's  grief  was  more 
bitter  and  defiant.  All  the  children  were  delicate,  but  it  was 
the  first  time  death  had  taken  one.  The  meaningless  tragedy 
of  Benjamin's  end  shook  the  child's  soul  to  its  depths.  Poor 
lad!  How  horrible  to  be  lying  cold  and  ghastly  beneath  the 
winter  snow!  What  had  been  the  use  of  all  his  long  prepa- 
rations to  write  great  novels  ?  The  name  of  Ansell  would  now 
become  ingloriously  extinct.  She  wondered  wiiether  Our  Owfi 
would  collapse  and  secretly  felt  it  must.  And  then  what  of 
the  hopes  of  worldly  wealth  she  had  built  on  Benjamin's  genius  ? 
Alas!  the  emancipation  of  the  Ansells  from  the  yoke  of  pov- 
erty was  clearly  postponed.  To  her  and  her  alone  must  the 
family  now  look  for  deliverance.  Well,  she  would  take  up  the 
mantle  of  the  dead  boy,  and  fill  it  as  best  she  might.  She 
clenched  her  little  hands  in  iron  determination.  Moses  Ansell 
knew  nothing  either  of  her  doubts  or  her  ambitions.  Work 
was  still  plentiful  three  days  a  week,  and  he  was  unconscious 
he  was  not  supporting  his  family  in  comparative  affluence. 
But  even  with  Esther  the  incessant  grind  of  school-life  and 
quasi-motherhood  speedily  rubbed  away  the  sharper  edges 
of  sorrow,  though  the  custom  prohibiting  obvious  pleasures 
during  the  year  of  mourning  went  in  no  danger  of  transgres- 
sion, for  poor  little  Esther  gadded  neither  to  children's  balls 
nor  to  theatres.  Her  thoughts  were  full  of  the  prospects  of 
piscine  bargains,  as  she  pushed  her  way  through  a  crowd  so 
closely  wedged,  and    lit    up    by  such  a  flare  of  gas    from    the 


268  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

shops  and  such  streamers  of  flame  from  the  barrows  that  the 
cold  wind  of  early  April  lost  its  sting. 

Two  opposing  currents  of  heavy-laden  pedestrians  were  en- 
deavoring in  their  progress  to  occupy  the  same  strip  of  pavement 
at  the  same  moment,  and  the  laws  of  space  kept  them  blocked 
till  they  yielded  to  its  remorseless  conditions.  Rich  and  poor 
elbowed  one  another,  ladies  in  satins  and  furs  were  jammed 
against  wretched  looking  foreign  women  with  their  heads 
swathed  in  dirty  handkerchiefs ;  rough,  red-faced  English  bet- 
ting men  struggled  good-humoredly  with  their  greasy  kindred 
from  over  the  North  Sea;  and  a  sprinkling  of  Christian  yokels 
surveyed  the  Jewish  hucksters  and  chapmen  with  amused  supe- 
riority. 

For  this  was  the  night  of  nights,  when  the  purchases  were 
made  for  the  festival,  and  great  ladies  of  the  West,  leaving  be- 
hind their  daughters  who  played  the  piano  and  had  a  subscrip- 
tion at  Mudie's,  came  down  again  to  the  beloved  Lane  to  throw 
oiT  the  veneer  of  refinement,  and  plunge  gloveless  hands  in  bar- 
rels where  pickled  cucumbers  weltered  in  their  own  '■^  riissell,'"' 
and  to  pick  fat  juicy  olives  from  the  rich-heaped  tubs.  Ah,  me! 
what  tragic  comedy  lay  behind  the  transient  happiness  of  these 
sensuous  faces,  laughing  and  munching  with  the  shamelessness 
of  school-girls !  For  to-night  they  need  not  hanker  in  silence 
after  the  flesh-pots  of  Egypt.  To-night  they  could  laugh  and 
talk  over  Oloi'  hasholom  times  —  "  Peace  be  upon  him  "  times  — 
with  their  old  cronies,  and  loosen  the  stays  of  social  ambition, 
even  while  they  dazzled  the  Ghetto  with  the  splendors  of  their 
get-up  and  the  halo  of  the  West  End  whence  they  came.  It 
was  a  scene  without  parallel  in  the  history  of  the  world  —  this 
phantasmagoria  of  grubs  and  butterflies,  met  together  for  auld 
lang  syne  in  their  beloved  hatching-place.  Such  violent  con- 
trasts of  wealth  and  poverty  as  might  be  looked  for  in  romantic 
gold-fields,  or  in  unsettled  countries  were  evolved  quite  naturally 
amid  a  colorless  civilization  by  a  people  with  an  incurable  talent 
for  the  picturesque. 

"  Hullo!  Can  that  be  you,  Betsy?"  some  grizzled  shabby  old 
man  would  observe  in  innocent  delight  to  Mrs.  Arthur  Mont- 


''FOR  AULD  LANG   SYNE,  MY  DEAR:'  269 

morenci ;  "  Why  so  it  is!  I  never  would  have  believed  my  eyes! 
Lord,  what  a  fine  woman  youVe  grown !  And  so  youVe  little 
Betsy  who  used  to  bring  her  father''s  coffee  in  a  brown  jug  when 
he  and  I  stood  side  by  side  in  the  Lane!  He  used  to  sell  slip- 
pers next  to  my  cutlery  stall  for  eleven  years  —  Dear,  dear,  how 
time  flies  to  be  sure." 

Then  Betsy  Montmorenci's  creamy  face  would  grow  scarlet 
under  the  gas-jets,  and  she  would  glower  and  draw  her  sables 
around  her,  and  look  round  involuntarily,  to  see  if  any  of  her 
Kensington  friends  were  within  earshot. 

Another  Betsy  Montmorenci  would  feel  Bohemian  for  this 
occasion  only,  and  would  receive  old  acquaintances'  greeting 
effusively,  and  pass  the  old  phrases  and  by-words  with  a  strange 
sense  of  stolen  sweets ;  while  yet  a  third  Betsy  Montmorenci,  a 
finer  spirit  this,  and  worthier  of  the  name,  would  cry  to  a  Betsy 
Jacobs : 

"Is  that  you,  Betsy,  how  are  you?  How  are  you?  Fm  so 
glad  to  see  you.  Won't  you  come  and  treat  me  to  a  cup  of 
chocolate  at  Bonn's,  just  to  show  you  haven't  forgot  Olov 
hasholom  times  ? " 

And  then,  having  thus  thrown  the  responsibility  of  stand- 
offishness  on  the  poorer  Betsy,  the  Montmorenci  would  launch 
into  recollections  of  those  good  old  "  Peace  be  upon  him  "  times 
till  the  grub  forgot  the  splendors  of  the  caterpillar  in  a  joyous 
resurrection  of  ancient  scandals.  But  few  of  the  Montmorencis, 
whatever  their  species,  left  the  Ghetto  without  pressing  bits  of 
gold  into  half-reluctant  palms  in  shabby  back-rooms  where  old 
friends  or  poor  relatives  mouldered. 

Overhead,  the  stars  burned  silently,  but  no  one  looked  up 
at  them.  Underfoot,  lay  the  thick,  black  veil  of  mud,  which  the 
Lane  never  lifted,  but  none  looked  down  on  it.  It  was  impos- 
sible to  think  of  aught  but  humanity  in  the  bustle  and  confusion, 
in  the  cram  and  crush,  in  the  wedge  and  the  jam,  in  the  squeez- 
ing and  shouting,  in  the  hubbub  and  medley.  Such  a  jolly, 
rampant,  screaming,  fighting,  maddening,  jostling,  polyglot,  quar- 
relling, laughing  broth  of  a  Vanity  Fair  !  Mendicants,  vendors, 
buyers,  gossips,  showmen,  all  swelled  the  roar. 


270  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

"  Here's  your  cakes !  All  yontovdik  (for  the  festival)  !  Yon- 
tovdik  —  " 

"  Braces,  best  braces,  all  —  " 

'-^Yontovdik I     Only  one  shilling  —  " 

'^  It's  the  Rav's  orders,  mum ;  all  legs  of  mutton  must  be 
porged  or  my  license —  '^ 

"  Cowcumbers !     Cowcumbers !  " 

"  Now's  your  chance  —  " 

"The  best  trousers,  gentlemen.  Corst  me  as  sure  as  I 
stand  —  " 

"  On  your  own  head,  you  old  —  " 

"  Arbah  Kanfus  (four  fringes)  !     Arbah —  " 

"  My  old  man's  been  under  an  operation  —  " 

"  H  okey  Pokey !     Yontovdik !     H okey  — '' 

"  Get  out  of  the  way,  can't  you  —  " 

"  By  your  life  and  mine,  Betsy  —  ■" 

"  Gord  blesh  you,  mishter,  a  toisand  year  shall  ye  live." 

"  Eat  the  best  Motsos.     Only  fourpence  —  " 

"  The  bones  must  go  with,  marm.  I've  cut  it  as  lean  as 
possible." 

'■^  Charoises  (a  sweet  mixture).  Charoisesl  Moroire  (bitter 
herb)!     Chraine  (horseradish)!     Pesachdik  (for  Passover)." 

"  Come  and  have  a  glass  of  Old  Tom,  along  o'  me,  sonny." 

"  Fine  plaice  !  Here  y'are  !  Hi !  where's  yer  pluck  !  S'elp 
me  —  " 

"  Bob  !     Yontovdik!     Yontovdik  I     Only  a  bob!  " 

"  Chuck  steak  and  half  a  pound  of  fat." 

"A  slap  in  the  eye,  if  you  —  " 

"  Gord  bless  you.     Remember  me  to  Jacob." 

"  Shaink  (spare)  meer  a  'apenny,  missis  lieben,  missis  croin 
(dear)  —  " 

"  An  unnatural  death  on  you,  you  —  " 

"  Lord!     Sal,  how  you've  altered  !  " 

"  Ladies,  here  you  are  —  " 

"  I  give  you  my  word.  sir.  the  fish  will  be  home  before  you." 

"  Painted  in  the  best  style,  for  a  tanner —  " 

"A  spoonge,  mister?  " 


''FOR  AULD  LANG   SYNE,   MY  DEARr  271 

"  ril  cut  a  slice  of  this  melon  for  you  for  —  " 
"  She's  dead,  poor  thing,  peace  be  upon  him." 
"  Yontovdik  !     Three  bob  for  one  purse  containing —  " 
"  The  real  live  tattooed  Hindian,  born  in  the  African  Harchi- 
pellygo.     Walk  up." 

"  This  way  for  the  dwarf  that  will  speak,  dance,  and  sing." 
"  Tree  lemons  a  penny.     Tree  lemons  —  '^ 
"  A  Shtibbiw  (penny)  for  a  poor  blind  man  —  " 
"  Yontovdik  !     Yontovdik  !     Yontovdik !    Yontovdik  I  " 
And  in  this  last  roar,  common  to  so  many  of  the  mongers, 
the  whole  Babel  would  often  blend  for  a  moment  and  be  swal- 
lowed up,  re-emerging  anon  in  its  broken  multiplicity. 

Everybody  Esther  knew  was  in  the  crowd  —  she  met  them 
all  sooner  or  later.  In  Wentworth  Street,  amid  dead  cabbage- 
leaves,  and  mud,  and  refuse,  and  orts,  and  offal,  stood  the  woe- 
begone Meckish,  offering  his  puny  sponges,  and  wooing  the 
charitable  with  grinning  grimaces  tempered  by  epileptic  fits  at 
judicious  intervals.  A  few  inches  off,  his  wife  in  costly  sealskin 
jacket,  purchased  salmon  with  a  Maida  Vale  manner.  Com- 
pressed in  a  corner  was  Shosshi  Shmendrik,  his  coat-tails  yellow 
with  the  yolks  of  dissolving  eggs  from  a  bag  in  his  pocket. 
He  asked  her  frantically,  if  she  had  seen  a  boy  whom  he  had 
hired  to  carry  home  his  codfish  and  his  fowls,  and  explained 
that  his  missus  was  busy  in  the  shop,  and  had  delegated  to  him 
the  domestic  duties.  It  is  probable,  that  if  Mrs.  Shmendrik, 
formerly  the  widow  Finkelstein,  ever  received  these  dainties, 
she  found  her  good  man  had  purchased  fish  artificially  inflated 
with  air,  and  fowls  fattened  with  brown  paper.  Hearty  Sam 
Abrahams,  the  bass  chorister,  whose  genial  countenance  spread 
sunshine  for  yards  around,  stopped  Esther  and  gave  her  a 
penny.  Further,  she  met  her  teacher,  Miss  Miriam  Hyams,  and 
curtseyed  to  her,  for  Esther  was  not  of  those  who  jeeringly  called 
"  teacher  "  and  ''  master ''  according  to  sex  after  her  superiors, 
till  the  victims  longed  for  Elisha''s  influence  over  bears.  Later 
on,  she  was  shocked  to  see  her  teacher's  brother  piloting  bonny 
Bessie  Sugarman  through  the  thick  of  the  ferment.  Crushed 
between  two  barrows,   she  found  Mrs.  Belcovitch  and  Fann_), 


272  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

who  were  shopping  together,  attended  by  Pesach  Weingott,  all 
carrying  piles  of  purchases. 

''  Esther,  if  you  should  see  my  Becky  in  the  crowd,  tell  her 
where  I  am,"' said  Mrs.  Belcovitch.  "She  is  with  one  of  her 
chosen  young  men.  I  am  so  feeble,  I  can  hardly  crawl  around, 
and  my  Becky  ought  to  carry  home  the  cabbages.  She  has 
well-matched  legs,  not  one  a  thick  one  and  one  a  thin  one." 

Around  the  fishmongers  the  press  was  great.  The  fish-trade 
was  almost  monopolized  by  English  Jews — blonde,  healthy- 
looking  fellows,  with  brawny,  bare  arms,  who  were  approached 
with  dread  by  all  but  the  bravest  foreign  Jewesses.  Their  scale 
of  prices  and  politeness  varied  with  the  status  of  the  buyer. 
Esther,  who  had  an  observant  eye  and  ear  for  such  things,  often 
found  amusement  standing  unobtrusively  by.  To-night  there 
was  the  usual  comedy  awaiting  her  enjoyment.  A  well-dressed 
dame  came  up  to  ''  Uncle  Abe's  "'  stall,  where  half  a  dozen  lots 
of  fishy  miscellanaea  were  spread  out. 

"Good  evening,  madam.  Cold  night  but  fine.  That  lot? 
Well,  you're  an  old  customer  and  fish  are  cheap  to-day,  so  I  can 
let  you  have  'em  for  a  sovereign.  Eighteen?  Well,  it's  hard, 
but  —  boy !  take  the  lady's  fish.    Thank  you.    Good  evening." 

"  How  much  that? "  says  a  neatly  dressed  woman,  pointing  to 
a  precisely  similar  lot. 

"  Can't  take  less  than  nine  bob.  Fish  are  dear  to-day.  You 
won't  get  anything  cheaper  in  the  Lane,  by  G —  you  won't. 
Five  shillings!  By  my  life  and  by  my  children's  life,  they  cost 
me  more  than  that.  So  sure  as  I  stand  here  and  —  well,  come, 
gie's  seven  and  six  and  they're  yours.  You  can't  afford  more? 
Well,  'old  up  your  apron,  old  gal.  I'll  make  it  up  out  of  the 
rich.  By  your  life  and  mine,  you've  got  a  Meisiah  (bargain) 
there!" 

Here  old  Mrs.  Shmendrik,  Shosshi's  mother,  came  up,  a  rich 
Paisley  shawl  over  her  head  in  lieu  of  a  bonnet.  Lane  women 
who  went  out  without  bonnets  were  on  the  same  plane  as  Lane 
men  who  went  out  without  collars. 

One  of  the  terrors  of  the  English  fishmongers  was  that  they 
required  the  customer  to  speak  English,  thus  fulfilling  an  impor- 


''FOR   AULD  LANG   SYNE,   MY  DEAR:'  273 

tant  educative  function  in  the  community.  They  allowed  a 
certain  peicentage  of  jargon-words,  for  they  themselves  took 
licenses  in  this  direction,  but  they  professed  not  to  understand 
pure  Yiddish. 

"  Abraham,  'ow  mosh  for  dees  lot,"  said  old  Mrs.  Shmendrik, 
turning  over  a  third  similar  heap  and  feeling  the  fish  all  over. 

"Paws  off!'''  said  Abraham  roughly.  "Look  here!  I  know 
the  tricks  of  you  Polakinties.  Til  name  you  the  lowest  price  and 
won't  stand  a  farthing's  bating.  Til  lose  by  you,  but  you  ain't 
going  to  worry  me.     Eight  bob!     There!  " 

"  Avroomkely  (dear  little  Abraham)  take  lebbenpence!  " 

"Elevenpence!  By  G — ,"  cried  Uncle  Abe,  desperately  tear- 
ing his  hair.  "I  knew  it!"  And  seizing  a  huge  plaice  by  the 
tail  he  whirled  it  round  and  struck  Mrs.  Shmendrik  full  in  the 
face,  shouting,  "  Take  that,  you  old  witch !  Sling  your  hook  or 
ril  murder  you." 

"Thou  dog!"  shrieked  Mrs.  Shmendrik,  falling  back  on  the 
more  copious  resources  of  her  native  idiom.  "  A  black  year  on 
thee!  Mayest  thou  swell  and  die!  May  the  hand  that  struck 
me  rot  away!  Mayest  thou  be  burned  alive!  Thy  father  was  a 
Gonof  and  thou  art  a  Gonof  and  thy  whole  family  are  Gonoviin. 
May  Pharaoh's  ten  plagues  —  " 

There  was  little  malice  at  the  back  of  it  all  —  the  mere  imas:- 
inative  exuberance  of  a  race  whose  early  poetry  consisted  in 
saying  things  twice  over. 

Uncle  Abraham  menacingly  caught  up  the  plaice,  crying : 

"  May  I  be  struck  dead  on  the  spot,  if  you  ain't  gone  in  one 
second  I  won't  answer  for  the  consequences.  Now,  then,  clear 
off!" 

"Come,  Avroomkely,"  said  Mrs.  Shmendrik,  dropping  sud- 
denly from  invective  to  insinuativeness.  "Take  fourteenpence. 
Shemah,  benil     Fourteen  Shtibbur's  a  lot  of  Gelty 

"  Are  you  a-going?  "  cried  Abraham  in  a  terrible  rage.  "'  Ten 
bob's  my  price  now." 

"  Avroomkely,  noo^  soog  (say  now) !  Fourteenpence  'apenny. 
I  am  a  poor  voman.     Here,  fifteenpence." 

Abraham  seized  her  by  the  shoulders  and  pushed  her  towards 

T 


274  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

the  wall,  where  she  cursed  picturesquely.  Esther  thought  it  was 
a  bad  time  to  attempt  to  get  her  own  shilling's  worth  — she  fought 
her  way  towards  another  fishmonger. 

There  was  a  kindly,  weather-beaten  old  fellow  with  whom 
Esther  had  often  chaffered  job-lots  when  fortune  smiled  on  the 
Ansells.  Him,  to  her  joy,  Esther  perceived  —  she  saw  a  stack 
of  gurnards  on  his  improvised  slab,  and  in  imagination  smelt  her- 
self frying  them.  Then  a  great  shock  as  of  a  sudden  icy  douche 
traversed  her  frame,  her  heart  seemed  to  stand  still.  For  when 
she  put  her  hand  to  her  pocket  to  get  her  purse,  she  found  but 
a  thimble  and  a  slate-pencil  and  a  cotton  handkerchief.  It  was 
some  minutes  before  she  could  or  would  realize  the  truth  that 
the  four  and  sevenpence  halfpenny  on  which  so  much  depended 
was  gone.  Groceries  and  unleavened  cakes  Charity  had  given, 
raisin  wine  had  been  preparing  for  days,  but  fish  and  meat  and 
all  the  minor  accessories  of  a  well-ordered  Passover  table  —  these 
were  the  prey  of  the  pickpocket.  A  blank  sense  of  desolation 
overcame  the  child,  infinitely  more  horrible  than  that  which  she 
felt  when  she  spilled  the  soup ;  the  gurnards  she  could  have 
touched  with  her  finger  seemed  far  off,  inaccessible  ;  in  a  moment 
more  they  and  all  things  were  blotted  out  by  a  hot  rush  of  tears, 
and  she  was  jostled  as  in  a  dream  hither  and  thither  by  the  double 
stream  of  crowd.  Nothing  since  the  death  of  Benjamin  had 
given  her  so  poignant  a  sense  of  the  hollowness  and  uncertainty 
of  existence.  What  would  her  father  say,  whose  triumphant  con- 
viction that  Providence  had  provided  for  his  Passover  was  to  be 
so  rudely  dispelled  at  the  eleventh  hour.  Poor  Moses!  He  had 
been  so  proud  of  having  earned  enougli  money  to  make  a  good 
Vofitov,  and  was  more  convinced  than  ever  that  given  a  little  cap- 
ital to  start  with  he  could  build  up  a  colossal  business!  And 
now  she  would  have  to  go  home  and  spoil  everybody''s  Yontov, 
and  see  the  sour  faces  of  her  little  ones  round  a  barren  Seder 
table.  Oh,  it  was  terrible!  and  the  child  wept  piteously,  unheeded 
in  the  block,  unheard  amid  the  Babel. 


THE  DEAD  MONKEY.  275 


CHAPTER   XXIII. 

THE   DEAD    MONKEY. 

An  old  MaaseJi  the  grandmother  had  told  her  came  back  to 
her  fevered  brain.  In  a  town  in  Russia  lived  an  old  Jew  who 
earned  scarce  enough  to  eat,  and  half  of  what  he  did  earn  was 
stolen  from  him  in  bribes  to  the  officials  to  let  him  be.  Perse- 
cuted and  spat  upon,  he  yet  trusted  in  his  God  and  praised  His 
name.  And  it  came  on  towards  Passover  and  the  winter  was 
severe  and  the  Jew  was  nigh  starving  and  his  wife  had  made  no 
preparations  for  the  Festival.  And  in  the  bitterness  of  her  soul 
she  derided  her  husband's  faith  and  made  mock  of  him,  but  he 
said,  "  Have  patience,  my  wife  !  Our  Seder  board  shall  be  spread 
as  in  the  days  of  yore  and  as  in  former  years."  But  the  Festival 
drew  nearer  and  nearer  and  there  was  nothing  in  the  house. 
And  the  wife  taunted  her  husband  yet  further,  saying,  ''  Dost 
thou  think  that  Elijah  the  prophet  will  call  upon  thee  or  that  the 
Messiah  will  come  ?  "  But  he  answered  :  '•  Elijah  the  prophet 
walketh  the  earth,  never  having  died;  who  knows  but  that  he 
will  cast  an  eye  my  way?"  Whereat  his  wife  laughed  outright. 
And  the  days  wore  on  to  within  a  few  hours  of  Passover  and  the 
larder  was  still  empty  of  provender  and  the  old  Jew  still  full  of 
faith.  Now  it  befell  that  the  Governor  of  the  City,  a  hard  and 
cruel  man,  sat  counting  out  piles  of  gold  into  packets  for  the  pay- 
ment of  the  salaries  of  the  officials  and  at  his  side  sat  his  pet 
monkey,  and  as  he  heaped  up  the  pieces,  so  his  monkey  imitated 
him,  making  little  packets  of  its  own  to  the  amusement  of  the 
Governor.  And  when  the  Governor  could  not  pick  up  a  piece 
easily,  he  moistened  his  forefinger,  putting  it  to  his  mouth,  where- 
upon the  monkey  followed  suit  each  time  ;  only  deeming  its 
master  was  devouring  the  gold,  it  swallowed  a  coin  every  time  he 
put  his  finger  to  his  lips.  So  that  of  a  sudden  it  was  taken  ill 
and  died.  And  one  of  his  men  said,  ''  Lo,  the  creature  is  dead. 
What  shall  we  do  with  it?  "     And  the  Go'vernor  was  sorely  vexed 


276  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

in  spirit,  because  he  could  not  make  his  accounts  straight  and  he 
answered  gruffly,  "  Trouble  me  not !  Throw  it  into  the  house  of 
the  old  Jew  down  the  street/''  So  the  man  took  the  carcass  and 
threw  it  with  thunderous  violence  into  the  passage  of  the  Jew's 
house  and  ran  off  as  hard  as  he  could.  And  the  good  wife  came 
bustling  out  in  alarm  and  saw  a  carcass  hanging  over  an  iron 
bucket  that  stood  in  the  passage.  And  she  knew  that  it  was  the 
act  of  a  Christian  and  she  took  up  the  carrion  to  bury  it  when 
Lo!  a  rain  of  gold-pieces  came  from  the  stomach  ripped  up  by 
the  sharp  rim  of  the  vessel.  And  she  called  to  her  husband. 
"Hasten!  See  what  Elijah  the  prophet  hath  sent  us."  And 
she  scurried  into  the  market-place  and  bought  wine  and  unleav- 
ened bread,  and  bitter  herbs  and  all  things  necessary  for  the 
Seder  table,  and  a  little  fish  therewith  which  might  be  hastily 
cooked  before  the  Festival  came  in,  and  the  old  couple  were 
happy  and  gave  the  monkey  honorable  burial  and  sang  blithely 
of  the  deliverance  at  the  Red  Sea  and  filled  Elijah's  goblet  to  the 
brim  till  the  wine  ran  over  upon  the  white  cloth. 

Esther  gave  a  scornful  little  sniff  as  the  thought  of  this  happy 
denouement  flashed  upon  her.  No  miracle  like  that  would  hap- 
pen to  her  or  hers,  nobody  was  likely  to  leave  a  dead  monkey  on 
the  stairs  of  the  garret  —  hardly  even  the  "  stuffed  monkey  "  of 
contemporary  confectionery.  And  then  her  queer  little  brain 
forgot  its  grief  in  sudden  speculations  as  to  what  she  would  think 
if  her  four  and  sevenpence  halfpenny  came  back.  She  had 
never  yet  doubted  the  existence  of  the  Unseen  Power ;  only  its 
workings  seemed  so  incomprehensibly  indifferent  to  human  joys 
and  sorrows.  Would  she  believe  that  her  father  was  right  in 
holding  that  a  special  Providence  watched  over  him?  The  spirit 
of  her  brother  Solomon  came  upon  her  and  she  felt  that  she 
would.  Speculation  had  checked  her  sobs ;  she  dried  her  tears 
in  stony  scepticism  and,  looking  up,  saw  Malka's  gipsy-like  face 
bending  over  her,  breathing  peppermint. 

"What  weepest  thou,  Esther?"  she  said  not  unkindly.  "I 
did  not  know  thou  wast  a  gusher  with  the  eyes." 

"  Tve  lost  my  purse,"  sobbed  Esther,  softened  afresh  by  the 
sight  of  a  friendly  face. 


THE  DEAD  MONKEY.  277 

"Ah,  thou  Schlemihl!  Thou  art  like  thy  father.  How  much 
was  in  it  ?  " 

"Four  and  sevenpence  halfpenny!"  sobbed  Esther. 

"Tu,  tu,  tu,  tu,  tu!  '■•  ejaculated  Malka  in  horror.  "Thou  art 
the  ruin  of  thy  father."  Then  turning  to  the  fishmonger  with 
whom  she  had  just  completed  a  purchase,  she  counted  out  thirty- 
five  shillings  into  his  hand.  "  Here,  Esther,"  she  said,  "  thou 
shalt  carry  my  fish  and  I  will  give  thee  a  shilling." 

A  small  slimy  boy  who  stood  expectant  by  scowled  at  Esther 
as  she  painfully  lifted  the  heavy  basket  and  followed  in  the  wake 
of  her  relative  whose  heart  was  swelling  with  self-approbation. 

Fortunately  Zachariah  Square  was  near  and  Esther  soon 
received  her  shilling  with  a  proportionate  sense  of  Providence. 
The  fish  was  deposited  at  Milly's  house,  which  was  brightly  illu- 
minated and  seemed  to  poor  Esther  a  magnificent  palace  of  light 
and  luxury.  Malka's  own  house,  diagonally  across  the  Square, 
was  dark  and  gloomy.  The  two  families  being  at  peace,  Milly's 
house  was  the  headquarters  of  the  clan  and  the  clothes-brush. 
Everybody  was  home  for  Yomtov.  Malka's  husband,  Michael, 
and  Milly's  husband,  Ephraim,  were  sitting  at  the  table  smoking 
big  cigars  and  playing  Loo  with  Sam  Levine  and  David  Bran- 
don, who  had  been  seduced  into  making  a  fourth.  The  two 
young  husbands  had  but  that  day  returned  from  the  country,  for 
you  cannot  get  unleavened  bread  at  commercial  hotels,  and 
David  in  spite  of  a  stormy  crossing  had  arrived  from  Germany 
an  hour  earlier  than  he  had  expected,  and  not  knowing  what  to 
do  with  himself  had  been  surveying  the  humors  of  the  Festival 
Fair  till  Sam  met  him  and  dragged  him  round  to  Zachariah 
Square.  It  was  too  late  to  call  that  night  on  Hannah  to  be  intro- 
duced to  her  parents,  especially  as  he  had  wired  he  would  come 
the  next  day.  There  was  no  chance  of  Hannah  being  at  the 
club,  it  was  too  busy  a  night  for  all  angels  of  the  hearth  ;  even 
to-morrow,  the  even  of  the  Festival,  would  be  an  awkward  time 
for  a  young  man  to  thrust  his  love-affairs  upon  a  household 
given  over  to  the  more  important  matters  of  dietary  preparation. 
Still  David  could  not  consent  to  live  another  whole  day  without 
seeing  the  light  of  his  eyes. 


278  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

Leah,  inwardly  projecting  an  orgie  of  comic  operas  and  dances, 
was  assisting  Milly  in  the  kitchen.  Both  young  women  were 
covered  with  flour  and  oil  and  grease,  and  their  coarse  hand- 
some faces  were  flushed,  for  they  had  been  busy  all  day  drawing 
fowls,  stewing  prunes  and  pippins,  gutting  fish,  melting  fat, 
changing  the  crockery  and  doing  the  thousand  and  one  things 
necessitated  by  gratitude  for  the  discomfiture  of  Pharaoh  at  the 
Red  Sea ;  Ezekiel  slumbered  upstairs  in  his  crib. 

"  Mother,"  said  Michael,  pulling  pensively  at  his  whisker  as  he 
looked  at  his  card.  "This  is  Mr.  Brandon,  a  friend  of  Sam's. 
Don't  get  up,  Brandon,  we  don't  make  ceremonies  here.  Turn 
up  yours  —  ah,  the  nine  of  trumps." 

"Lucky  men!"  said  Malka  with  festival  flippancy.  "While  I 
must  hurry  off"  my  supper  so  as  to  buy  the  fish,  and  Miliy  and 
Leah  must  sweat  in  the  kitchen,  you  can  squat  yourselves  down 
and  play  cards." 

"  Yes,"  laughed  Sam,  looking  up  and  adding  in  Hebrew, 
"Blessed  art  thou,  O  Lord,  who  hath  not  made  me  a  woman." 

"Now,  now,"  said  David,  putting  his  hand  jocosely  across  the 
young  man's  mouth.  "  No  more  Hebrew.  Remember  what 
happened  last  time.  Perhaps  there's  some  mysterious  signifi- 
cance even  in  that,  and  you'll  find  yourself  let  in  for  something 
before  you  know  where  you  are." 

"  You're  not  going  to  prevent  me  talking  the  language  of  my 
Fathers,"  gurgled  Sam,  bursting  into  a  merry  operatic  whistle 
when  the  pressure  was  removed. 

"Milly!  Leah!"  cried  Malka.  "Come  and  look  at  my  fish! 
Such  a  Metsiahl     See,  they're  alive  yet." 

"  They  are  beauties,  mother,"  said  Leah,  entering  with  her 
sleeves  half  tucked  up,  showing  the  finely-moulded  white  arms 
in  curious  juxtaposition  with  the  coarse  red  hands. 

"  O,  mother,  they're  alive!"  said  Milly,  peering  over  her 
younger  sister's  shoulder. 

Both  knew  by  bitter  experience  that  their  mother  considered 
herself  a  connoisseur  in  the  purchase  of  fish. 

"And  how  much  do  you  think  I  gave  for  them?  "went  on 
Malka  triumphantly. 


THE  DEAD  MONKEY.  279 

"  Two  pounds  ten,'''  said  Milly. 

Malka's  eyes  twinkled  and  slie  shook  her  head. 

"  Two  pounds  fifteen,"  said  Leah,  with  the  air  of  hitting  it 
now.  • 

Still  Malka  shook  her  head. 

"  Here,  Michael,  what  do  you  think  I  gave  for  all  this  lot? " 

"  Diamonds!"  said  Michael. 

"  Be  not  a  fool,  Michael,"  said  Malka  sternly.  "  Look  here  a 
minute." 

"  Eh?  Oh!  "  said  Michael  looking  up  from  his  cards.  "  Don't 
bother,  mother.     My  game!  " 

"Michael!"  thundered  Malka.  "Will  you  look  at  this  fish? 
How  much  do  you  think  I  gave  for  this  splendid  lot?  here,  look 
at  'em,  alive  yet." 

"  H'm  —  Ha! "  said  Michael,  taking  his  complex  corkscrew  com- 
bination out  of  his  pocket  and  putting  it  back  again.  "  Three 
guineas  ?  " 

"Three  guineas!"  laughed  Malka,  in  good-humored  scorn. 
"Lucky  I  don't  let_y^;/  do  my  marketing." 

"Yes,  he'd  be  a  nice  fishy  customer! "  said  Sam  Levine  with  a 
guffaw. 

"Ephraim,  what  think  you  I  got  this  fish  for?  Cheap  now, 
you  know  ? " 

"I  don't  know,  mother,"  replied  the  twinkling-eyed  Pole 
obediently.     "Three  pounds,  perhaps,  if  you  got  it  cheap." 

Samuel  and  David  duly  appealed  to,  reduced  the  amount  to 
two  pounds  five  and  two  pounds  respectively.  Then,  having 
got  everybody's  attention  fixed  upon  her,  she  exclaimed : 

"  Thirty  shillings!" 

She  could  not  resist  nibbling  off  the  five  shilHngs.  Every- 
body drew  a  long  breath. 

"  Tu !  Tu!  "  they  ejaculated  in  chorus.     "  What  a  Metsiah !  " 

"Sam,"  said  Ephraim  immediately  afterwards.  "K^/^  turned 
up  the  ace." 

Milly  and  Leah  went  back  into  the  kitchen. 

It  was  rather  too  quick  a  relapse  into  the  common  things  of 
life  and  made  Malka  suspect  the  admiration  was  but  superficial. 


280  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

She  turned,  with  a  spice  of  ill-humor,  and  saw  Esther  still  stand- 
ing timidly  behind  her.  Her  face  flushed  for  she  knew  the  child 
had  overheard  her  in  a  lie. 

"What  art  thou  waiting  about  for?"  she  said  roughly  in  Yid- 
dish.    "Na!  there's  a  peppermint." 

"  I  thought  you  might  want  me  for  something  else,"  said 
Esther,  blushing  but  accepting  the  peppermint  for  Ikey.  "  And 
I  —  I  —  " 

"Well,  speak  up!  I  won't  bite  thee."  Malka  continued  to  talk 
in  Yiddish  though  the  child  answered  her  in  English. 

"I  —  I  —  nothing,"  said  Esther,  turning  away. 

"  Here,  turn  thy  face  round,  child,"  said  Malka,  putting  her 
hand  on  the  girPs  forcibly  averted  head.  "  Be  not  so  sullen, 
thy  mother  was  like  that,  she'd  want  to  bite  my  head  off  if  I 
hinted  thy  father  was  not  the  man  for  her,  and  then  she'd 
schtjuill  and  sulk  for  a  week  after.  Thank  God,  we  have  no 
one  like  that  in  this  house.  I  couldn't  live  for  a  day  with 
people  with  such  nasty  tempers.  Her  temper  worried  her  into 
the  grave,  though  if  thy  father  had  not  brought  his  mother  over 
from  Poland  my  poor  cousin  might  have  carried  home  my  fish 
to-night  instead  of  thee.  Poor  Gittel,  peace  be  upon  him! 
Come  tell  me  what  ails  thee,  or  thy  dead  mother  will  be  cross 
with  thee." 

Esther  turned  her  head  and  murmured  :  "  I  thought  you  might 
lend  me  the  three  and  sevenpence  halfpenny!" 

"Lend  thee — ?"  exclaimed  Malka.  "Why,  how  canst  thou 
ever  repay  it? " 

"  Oh  yes,"  affirmed  Esther  earnestly.  "  I  have  lots  of  money 
in  the  bank." 

"Eh!  what?     In  the  bank!  "  gasped  Malka. 

"  Yes,  I  won  five  pounds  in  the  school  and  I'll  pay  you  out  of 
that." 

"  Thy  father  never  told  me  that!  "  said  Malka.  "  He  kept  that 
dark.     Ah,  he  is  a  regular  Sc/inorrer !'''' 

"  My  father  hasn't  seen  you  since,"  retorted  Esther  hotly.  "  If 
you  had  come  round  when  he  was  sitting  shiva  for  Benjamin, 
peace  be  upon  him,  you  would  have  known." 


THE  DEAD  MONKEY.  281 

Malka  got  as  red  as  fire.  Moses  had  sent  Solomon  round 
to  inform  the  Mishpocha  of  his  affliction,  but  at  a  period  when 
the  most  casual  acquaintance  thinks  it  his  duty  to  call  (armed 
with  hard  boiled  eggs,  a  pound  of  sugar,  or  an  ounce  of  tea) 
on  the  mourners  condemned  to  sit  on  the  floor  for  a  week, 
no  representative  of  the  " family '^  had  made  an  appearance. 
Moses  took  it  meekly  enough,  but  his  mother  insisted  that 
such  a  slight  from  Zachariah  Square  would  never  have  been 
received  if  he  had  married  another  woman,  and  Esther  for 
once  agreed  with  her  grandmother's  sentiments  if  not  with  her 
Hibernian  expression  of  them. 

But  that  the  child  should  now  dare  to  twit  the  head  of  the 
family  wdth  bad  behavior  was  intolerable  to  Malka,  the  more 
so  as  she  had  no  defence. 

"  Thou  impudent  of  face ! "  she  cried  sharply.  "  Dost  thou  for- 
get whom  thou  talkest  to?" 

"  No,"  retorted  Esther.  "  You  are  my  father's  cousin  —  that 
is  why  you  ought  to  have  come  to  see  him." 

"I  am  not  thy  father's  cousin,  God  forbid!"  cried  Malka. 
"  I  was  thy  mother's  cousin,  God  have  mercy  on  her,  and 
I  wonder  not  you  drove  her  into  the  grave  between  the  lot 
of  you.  I  am  no  relative  of  any  of  you,  thank  God,  and 
from  this  day  forwards  I  wash  my  hands  of  the  lot  of  you, 
you  ungrateful  pack!  Let  thy  father  send  yoii  into  the  streets, 
with  matches,  not  another  thing  will  I  do  for  thee." 

"Ungrateful!"  said  Esther  hotly.  "Why,  what  have  you 
ever  done  for  us  ?  When  my  poor  mother  was  alive  you  made 
her  scrub  your  floors  and  clean  your  windows,  as  if  she  was 
an  Irishwoman." 

"Impudent  of  face !  "  cried  Malka,  almost  choking  with  rage. 
"'  What  have  I  done  for  you  ?  Why  —  why  —  I  —  I  —  shameless 
hussy!  And  this  is  what  Judaism's  coming  to  in  England! 
This  is  the  manners  and  religion  they  teach  thee  at  thy  school, 
eh?  What  have  I — ?  Impudent  of  face!  At  this  very  mo- 
ment thou  boldest  one  of  my  shillings  in  thy  hand." 

"Take  it!"  said  Esther.  And  threw  the  coin  passionately 
to   the   floor,    where   it   rolled   about    pleasantly   for   a  terrible 


282  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

minute  of  human  silence.  The  smoke-wreathed  card-players 
looked  up  at  last. 

"  Eh  ?  Eh  ?  What's  this,  my  little  girl,"  said  Michael  genially. 
"  What  makes  you  so  naughty  ?  " 

A  hysterical  fit  of  sobbing  was  the  only  reply.  In  the  bitter- 
ness of  that  moment  Esther  hated  the  whole  world. 

"  Don't  cry  like  that!     Don't!  "  said  David  Brandon  kindly. 

Esther,  her  little  shoulders  heaving  convulsively,  put  her 
hand  on  the  latch. 

"What's  the  matter  with  the  girl,  mother?"  said  Michael. 

"  She's  ;//^j'//;/^(^z .'"  said  Malka.  "Raving  mad!"  Her  face 
was  white  and  she  spoke  as  if  in  self-defence.  "  She's  such  a 
Schlemihl  that  she  lost  her  purse  in  the  Lane,  and  I  found  her 
gushing  with  the  eyes,  and  I  let  her  carry  home  my  fish  and 
gave  her  a  shilling  and  a  peppermint,  and  thou  seest  how  she 
turns  on  me,  thou  seest." 

"Poor  little  thing!"  said  David  impulsively.  "Here,  come 
here,  my  child." 

Esther  refused  to  budge. 

"  Come  here,"  he  repeated  gently.  "  See,  I  will  make  up  the  loss 
to  you.      Take  the  pool.     I've  just  won  it,  so  I  shan't  miss  it." 

Esther  sobbed  louder,  but  she  did  not  move. 

David  rose,  emptied  the  heap  of  silver  into  his  palm,  walked 
over  to  Esther,  and  pushed  it  into  her  pocket.  Michael  got  up 
and  added  half  a  crown  to  it.  and  the  other  two  men  followed 
suit.  Then  David  opened  the  door,  put  her  outside  gently  and 
said  :  "  There!  Run  away,  my  little  dear,  and  be  more  careful  of 
pickpockets." 

All  this  while  Malka  had  stood  frozen  to  the  stony  dignity  of  a 
dingy  terra-cotta  statue.  But  ere  the  door  could  close  again  on 
the  child,  she  darted  forward  and  seized  her  by  the  collar  of  her 
frock. 

"  Give  me  that  money,"  she  cried. 

Half  hypnotized  by  the  irate  swarthy  face,  Esther  made  no 
resistance  while  Malka  rifled  her  pocket  less  dexterously  than 
the  first  operator. 

Malka  counted  it  out. 


THE  DEAD   MONKEY.  283 

"Seventeen  and  sixpence,"  she  announced  in  terrible  tones. 
"  How  darest  thou  take  all  this  money  from  strangers,  and  per- 
fect strangers?  Do  my  children  think  to  shame  me  before  my 
own  relative?  "  And  throwing  the  money  violently  into  the 
plate  she  took  out  a  gold  coin  and  pressed  it  into  the  bewildered 
child's  hand. 

"  There! ''  she  shouted.  "  Hold  that  tight!  It  is  a  sovereign. 
And  if  ever  I  catch  thee  taking  money  from  any  one  in  this  house 
but  thy  mother's  own  cousin,  Fll  w'ash  my  hands  of  thee  for  ever. 
Go  now!  Go  on!  I  can't  afford  any  more,  so  it's  useless  wait- 
ing. Good-night,  and  tell  thy  father  I  wish  him  a  happy  Vo)itov, 
and  I  hope  he'll  lose  no  more  children." 

She  hustled  the  child  into  the  Square  and  banged  the  door 
upon  her,  and  Esther  went  about  her  mammoth  marketing  half- 
dazed,  with  an  undercurrent  of  happiness,  vaguely  apologetic 
towards  her  father  and  his  Providence. 

Malka  stooped  down,  picked  up  the  clothes-brush  from  under  the 
side-table,  and  strode  silently  and  diagonally  across  the  Square. 

There  was  a  moment's  dread  silence.  The  thunderbolt  had 
fallen.  The  festival  felicity  of  two  households  trembled  in  the 
balance.  Michael  muttered  impatiently  and  went  out  on  his 
wife's  track. 

"He's  an  awful  fool,"  said  Ephraim.  "I  should  make  her 
pay  for  her  tantrums." 

The  card  party  broke  up  in  confusion.  David  Brandon  took 
his  leave  and  strolled  about  aimlessly  under  the  stars,  his  soul 
blissful  with  the  sense  of  a  good  deed  that  had  only  superficially 
miscarried.  His  feet  took  him  to  Hannah's  house.  All  the 
windows  were  lit  up.  His  heart  began  to  ache  at  the  thought 
that  his  bright,  radiant  girl  was  beyond  that  doorstep  he  had 
never  crossed. 

He  pictured  the  love-light  in  her  eyes  ;  for  surely  she  was 
dreaming  of  him,  as  he  of  her.  He  took  out  his  watch  —  the 
time  was  twenty  to  nine.  After  all,  would  it  be  so  outrageous  to 
call?  He  went  away  twice.  The  third  time,  defying  the  conve- 
nances, he  knocked  at  the  door,  his  heart  beating  almost  as 
loudly. 


284  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

THE   SHADOW   OF   RELIGION. 

The  little  servant  girl  who  opened  the  door  for  him  looked 
relieved  by  the  sight  of  him,  for  it  might  have  been  the  Reb- 
bitzin  returning  from  the  Lane  with  heaps  of  supplies  and  an 
accumulation  of  ill-humor.  She  showed  him  into  the  study, 
and  in  a  few  moments  Hannah  hurried  in  with  a  big  apron  and 
a  general  flavor  of  the  kitchen. 

"How  dare  you  come  to-night.'*"  she  began,  but  the  sentence 
died  on  her  lips. 

"  How  hot  your  face  is,"  he  said,  dinting  the  flesh  fondly  with 
his  finger.     "  I  see  my  little  girl  is  glad  to  have  me  back." 

"It's  not  that.  It's  the  fire.  Fm  frying  fish  for  Yomtov^'' 
she  said,  with  a  happy  laugh. 

"And  yet  you  say  you're  not  a  good  Jewess,"  he  laughed 
back. 

"  You  had  no  right  to  come  and  catch  me  like  this,"  she 
pouted.  "All  greasy  and  dishevelled.  I'm  not  made  up  to 
receive  visitors." 

"Call  me  a  visitor?"  he  grumbled.  "Judging  by  your  ap- 
pearance, I  should  say  you  were  always  made  up.  Why,  you're 
perfectly  radiant." 

Then  the  talk  became  less  intelligible.  The  first  symptom  of 
returning  rationality  was  her  inquiry  — 

"  What  sort  of  a  journey  did  you  have  back?  " 

"The  sea  was  rough,  but  I'm  a  good  sailor." 

"And  the  poor  fellow's  father  and  mother?" 

"  I  wrote  you  about  them." 

"  So  you  did  ;  but  only  just  a  line." 

"  Oh,  don't  let  us  talk  about  the  subject  just  now,  dear,  it's 
too  painful.  Come,  let  me  kiss  that  little  woe-begone  look  out 
of  your  eyes.  There!  Now,  another  —  that  was  only  for  the 
right  eye,  this  is  for  the  left.     But  where's  your  mother?" 


THE   SHADOW   OF  RELIGION.  285 

"Oh,  you  innocent! ''  she  replied.  "As  if  you  hadn't 
watched  her  go  out  of  the  house!" 

"  Ton  my  honor,  not/'  he  said  smiling.  "  Why  should  I 
now?  Am  I  not  the  accepted  son-in-law  of  the  house,  you 
silly  timid  little  thing?  What  a  happy  thought  it  was  of  yours 
to  let  the  cat  out  of  the  bag.  Come,  let  me  give  you  another 
kiss  for  it —  Oh,  I  really  must.  You  deserve  it,  and  whatever 
it  costs  me  you  shall  be  rewarded.  There!  Now,  then! 
Where's  the  old  man?  I  have  to  receive  his  blessing,  I  know, 
and  I  want  to  get  it  over." 

"  It's  worth  having,  I  can  tell  you,  so  speak  more  respect- 
fully," said  Hannah,  more  than  half  in  earnest. 

'■'■YoH  are  the  best  blessing  he  can  give  me  —  and  that's  worth 
—  well,  I  wouldn't  venture  to  price  it." 

"  It's  not  your  line,  eh?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  I  have  done  a  good  deal  in  gems  ;  but  where 
is  the  Rabbi  ?  " 

"Up  in  the  bedrooms,  gathering  the  CJioifuttz.  You  know  he 
won't  trust  anybody  else.  He  creeps  under  all  the  beds,  hunting 
with  a  candle  for  stray  crumbs,  and  looks  in  all  the  wardrobes 
and  the  pockets  of  all  my  dresses.  Luckily,  I  don't  keep  your 
letters  there.  I  hope  he  won't  set  something  alight — he  did 
once.  And  one  year — Oh,  it  was  so  funny!  —  after  he  had 
ransacked  every  hole  and  corner  of  the  house,  imagine  his 
horror,  in  the  middle  of  Passover  to  find  a  crumb  of  bread 
audaciously  planted — where  do  you  suppose?  In  his  Passover 
prayer-book!  !  But,  oh!"  —  with  a  little  scream  —  "you  naughty 
boy!  I  quite  forgot."  She  took  him  by  the  shoulders,  and  peered 
along  his  coat.  "Have  you  brought  any  crumbs  with  you? 
This  room's  pesachdik  already." 

He  looked  dubious. 

She  pushed  him  towards  the  door.  "Go  out  and  give  your- 
self a  good  shaking  on  the  door-step,  or  else  we  shall  have  to 
clean  out  the  room  ail  over  again." 

"Don't!"  he  protested.     "I  might  shake  out  that." 

"What?" 

"  The  ring." 


286  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

She  uttered  a  little  pleased  sigh. 

"  Oh,  have  you  brought  that?" 

"  Yes,  I  got  it  while  I  was  away.  You  know  I  believe  the 
reason  you  sent  me  trooping  to  the  continent  in  such  haste, 
was  you  wanted  to  ensure  your  engagement  ring  being  '  made 
in  Germany.'  It's  had  a  stormy  passage  to  England,  has  that 
ring.  I  suppose  the  advantage  of  buying  rings  in  Germany  is 
that  you're  certain  not  to  get  Paris  diamonds  in  them,  they  are 
so  intensely  patriotic,  the  Germans.  That  was  your  idea,  wasn't 
it,  Hannah?" 

"  Oh,  show  it  me!     Don't  talk  so  much,"  she  said,  smiling. 

"No,"  he  said,  teasingly.  "No  more  accidents  for  me!  I'll 
wait  to  make  sure  —  till  your  father  and  mother  have  taken  me 
to  their  arms.  Rabbinical  law  is  so  full  of  pitfalls  —  I  might 
touch  your  finger  this  or  that  way,  and  then  we  should  be 
married.     And  then,  if  your  parents  said  '  no,'  after  all  —  " 

"We  should  have  to  make  the  best  of  a  bad  job,"  she  finished 
up  laughingly. 

"  All  very  well,"  he  went  on  in  his  fun,  "  but  it  would  be  a 
pretty  kettle  offish." 

"  Heavens!  "  she  cried,  "so  it  will  be.  They  will  be  charred 
to  ashes."  And  turning  tail,  she  fled  to  the  kitchen,  pursued  by 
her  lover.  There,  dead  to  the  surprise  of  the  servant,  David 
Brandon  fed  his  eyes  on  the  fair  incarnation  of  Jewish  domes- 
ticity, type  of  the  vestal  virgins  of  Israel,  Alinistresses  at  the 
hearth.  It  was  a  very  homely  kitchen  ;  the  dressers  glistening 
with  speckless  utensils,  and  the  deep  red  glow  of  the  coal  over 
which  the  pieces  of  fish  sputtered  and  crackled  in  their  bath  of 
oil,  filling  the  room  with  a  sense  of  deep  peace  and  cosy  comfort. 
David's  imagination  transferred  the  kitchen  to  his  future  home, 
and  he  was  almost  dazzled  by  the  thought  of  actually  inhabiting 
such  a  fairyland  alone  with  Hannah.  He  had  knocked  about  a 
great  deal,  not  always  innocently,  but  deep  down  at  his  heart 
was  the  instinct  of  well-ordered  life.  His  past  seemed  joyless 
folly  and  chill  emptiness.  He  felt  his  eyes  growing  humid  as 
he  looked  at  the  frank-souled  girl  who  had  given  herself  to  him. 
He  was  not  humble,  but  for  a  moment  he  found  himself  wonder- 


THE   SHADOW  OF  RELIGION.  287 

ing  how  he  deserved  the  trust,  and  there  was  reverence  in  the 
touch  with  which  he  caressed  her  hair.  In  another  moment  the 
frying  was  complete,  and  the  contents  of  the  pan  neatly  added 
to  the  dish.  Then  the  voice  of  Reb  Shemuel  crying  for  Hannah 
came  down  the  kitchen  stairs,  and  the  lovers  returned  to  the 
upper  w'orld.  The  Reb  had  a  tiny  harvest  of  crumbs  in  a  brown 
paper,  and  wanted  Hannah  to  stow  it  away  safely  till  the  morn- 
ing, when,  to  make  assurance  doubly  sure,  a  final  expedition  in 
search  of  leaven  would  be  undertaken.  Hannah  received  the 
packet  and  in  return  presented  her  betrothed. 

Reb  Shemuel  had  not  of  course  expected  him  till  the  next 
morning,  but  he  welcomed  him  as  heartily  as  Hannah  could 
desire. 

"  The  Most  High  bless  you!  "  he  said  in  his  charming  foreign 
accents.  "  May  you  make  my  Hannah  as  good  a  husband  as 
she  will  make  you  a  wdfe." 

"  Trust  me,  Reb  Shemuel,"  said  David,  grasping  his  great 
hand  warmly. 

"  Hannah  says  youVe  a  sinner  in  Israel,"  said  the  Reb,  smiling 
playfully,  though  there  was  a  touch  of  anxiety  in  the  tones. 
"But  I  suppose  you  will  keep  a  kosher  house." 

"  Make  your  mind  easy,  sir,"  said  David  heartily.  "  We 
must,  if  it's  only  to  have  the  pleasure  of  your  dining  with  us 
sometimes." 

The  old  man  patted  him  gently  on  the  shoulder. 

"Ah,  you  will  soon  become  a  good  Jew,"  he  said.  "My  Han- 
nah will  teach  you,  God  bless  her."  Reb  ShemuePs  voice  was  a 
bit  husky.  He  bent  down  and  kissed  Hannah's  forehead.  "I 
was  a  bit  link  myself  before  I  married  my  Simcha,"  he  added  en- 
couragingly. 

"No,  no,  not  you,"  said  David,  smiling  in  response  to  the 
twinkle  in  the  Reb's  eye.  "  I  warrant  _y^/^  never  skipped  a  Mitz- 
vah  even  as  a  bachelor." 

"Oh  yes,  I  did,"  replied  the  Reb,  letting  the  twinkle  develop 
to  a  broad  smile,  "  for  when  I  was  a  bachelor  I  hadn't  fulfilled 
the  precept  to  marry,  don't  you  see?  " 

"Is  marriage  a  Mitzvah,  then?"  inquired  David,  amused. 


288  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

"  Certainly.  In  our  holy  religion  everything  a  man  ought  to 
do  is  a  Miizvah,  even  if  it  is  pleasant." 

"  Oh,  then,  even  I  must  have  laid  up  some  good  deeds/'  laughed 
David,  "  for  I  have  always  enjoyed  myself.  Really,  it  isn't  such 
a  bad  religion  after  all." 

"Bad  religion!"  echoed  Reb  Shemuel  genially.  "Wait  till 
youVe  tried  it.  You've  never  had  a  proper  training,  that's  clear. 
Are  your  parents  alive  ?  " 

"  No,  they  both  died  when  I  was  a  child,"  said  David, 
becoming  serious. 

"I  thought  so!"  said  Reb  Shemuel.  "Fortunately  my  Han- 
nah's didn't."  He  smiled  at  the  humor  of  the  phrase  and 
Hannah  took  his  hand  and  pressed  it  tenderly.  "  Ah,  it  will  be 
all  right,"  said  the  Reb  with  a  characteristic  burst  of  optimism. 
"God  is  good.  You  have  a  sound  Jewish  heart  at  bottom, 
David,  my  son.  Hannah,  get  the  Yomtovdik  wine.  We  will 
drink  a  glass  for  Mazzoltov,  and  I  hope  your  mother  will  be 
back  in  time  to  join  in." 

Hannah  ran  into  the  kitchen  feeling  happier  than  she  had 
ever  been  in  her  life.  She  wept  a  little  and  laughed  a  little,  and 
loitered  a  little  to  recover  her  composure  and  allow  the  two  men 
to  get  to  know  each  other  a  little. 

"How  is  your  Hannah's  late  husband?"  inquired  the  Reb 
with  almost  a  wink,  for  everything  combined  to  make  him  jolly 
as  a  sandboy.     "  I  understand  he  is  a  friend  of  yours." 

"We  used  to  be  schoolboys  together,  that  is  all.  Though 
strangely  enough  I  just  spent  an  hour  with  him.  He  is  very 
well,"  answered  David  smiling.  "  He  is  about  to  marry 
again." 

"  His  first  love  of  course,''  said  the  Reb. 

"Yes,  people  always  come  back  to  that,"  said  David  laughing. 

"That's  right,  that's  right,"  said  the  Reb.  "I  am  glad  there 
was  no  unpleasantness." 

"Unpleasantness.  No,  how  could  there  be?  Leah  knew  it 
was  only  a  joke.  All's  well  that  ends  well,  and  we  may  perhaps 
all  get  married  on  the  same  day  and  risk  another  mix-up.  Ha! 
Ha!  Ha!" 


THE   SHADOW   OF  RELIGION.  289 

''  Is  it  your  wish  to  marry  soon,  then?" 

"  Yes  ;  there  are  too  many  long  engagements  among  our  peo- 
ple.    They  often  go  off." 

^'  Then  I  suppose  you  have  the  means?" 

"  Oh  yes,  I  can  show  you  my  —  " 

The  old  man  waved  his  hand. 

''  I  don't  want  to  see  anything.  My  girl  must  be  supported 
decently  —  that  is  all  I  ask.     What  do  you  do  for  a  living? " 

"  I  have  made  a  little  moiTey  at  the  Cape  and  now  I  think  of 
going  into  business." 

"What  business?" 

"  I  haven't  settled." 

"  You  won't  open  on  Shabbos  f  "  said  the  Reb  anxiously. 

David  hesitated  a  second.  In  some  business,  Saturday  is  the 
best  day.  Still  he  felt  that  he  was  not  quite  radical  enough  to 
break  the  Sabbath  deliberately,  and  since  he  had  contemplated 
settling  down,  his  religion  had  become  rather  more  real  to  him. 
Besides  he  must  sacrifice  something  for  Hannah's  sake. 

"  Have  no  fear,  sir,"  he  said  cheerfully. 

Reb  Shemuel  gripped  his  hand  in  grateful  silence. 

"  You  mustn't  think  me  quite  a  lost  soul,"  pursued  David  after 
a  moment  of  emotion.  ''  You  don't  remember  me,  but  I  had  lots 
of  blessings  and  halfpence  from  you  when  I  was  a  lad.  I  dare 
say  I  valued  the  latter  more  in  those  days."  He  smiled  to  hide 
his  emotion. 

Reb  Shemuel  was  beaming.  "Did  you,  really?"  he  inquired. 
"I  don't  remember  you.  But  then  I  have  blessed  so  many  little 
children.  Of  course  you'll  come  to  the  Seder  to-morrow  evening 
and  taste  some  of  Hannah's  cookery.  You're  one  of  the  family 
now,  you  know." 

"  I  shall  be  delighted  to  have  the  privilege  of  having  Seder 
with  you,"  replied  David,  his  heart  going  out  more  and  more  to 
the  fatherly  old  man. 

"What  Shool  will  you  be  going  to  for  Passover?  I  can  get 
you  a  seat  in  mine  if  you  haven't  arranged." 

"  Thank  you,  but  I  promised  Mr.  Birnbaum  to  come  to  the 
little  synagogue  of  which  he  is  President.     It  seems  they  have  a 
u 


290  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

scarcity  of  Cohoiini,  and  they  want  me  to  bless  the  congregation, 
I  suppose/' 

"What!"  cried  Reb  Shemuel  excitedly.    "Are  you  a  Cohen?'''* 

"  Of  course  I  am.  Why,  they  got  me  to  bless  them  in  the 
Transvaal  last  Yom  Kippiir.  So  you  see  Fm  anything  but  a 
sinner  in  Israel."  He  laughed  —  but  his  laugh  ended  abruptly. 
Reb  ShemuePs  face  had  grown  wdiite.  His  hands  were  trem- 
bling. 

"What  is  the  matter?     You  are  i41,"  cried  David. 

The  old  man  shook  his  head.  Then  he  struck  his  brow  with 
his  fist.  ''Ach,  Gottr'  he  cried.  "Why  did  I  not  think  of 
finding  out  before  ?    But  thank  God  I  know  it  in  time." 

"  Finding  out  what  ?  "  said  David,  fearing  the  old  man's  reason 
was  giving  way. 

"  My  daughter  cannot  marry  you,"  said  Reb  Shemuel  in  hushed, 
quavering  tones. 

"  Eh  ?     What  ?  "  said  David  blankly. 

"  It  is  impossible." 

"What  are  you  talking  about,  Reb  Shemuel?" 

"You  are  a  Co/ieii.     Hannah  cannot  marry  a  Coheji^ 

"Not  marry  a  Cohetif  Why,  I  thought  they  were  Israel's 
aristocracy." 

"That  is  why.     A  Cohen  cannot  marry  a  divorced  woman." 

The  fit  of  trembling  passed  from  the  old  Reb  to  the  young 
man.  His  heart  pulsed  as  with  the  stroke  of  a  mighty  piston. 
Without  compreliending,  Hannah's  prior  misadventure  gave  him 
a  horrible  foreboding  of  critical  complications. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  I  can't  marry  Hannah  ?  "  he  asked  almost 
in  a  whisper. 

"  Such  is  the  law.  A  woman  who  has  had  Gett  may  not  marry 
a  Cohe/iy 

"But  you  surely  wouldn't  call  Hannah  a  divorced  woman?  " 
he  cried  hoarsely. 

"How  shall  I  not?     I  gave  her  the  divorce  myself." 

"  Great  God!  "  exclaimed  David.  "  Then  Sam  has  ruined  our 
lives."  He  stood  a  moment  in  dazed  horror,  striving  to  grasp 
the  terrible  tangle.     Then  he  burst  forth.     "This  is  some  of 


THE   SHADOW   OF  RELIGION.  291 

your  cursed  Rabbinical  laws,  it  is   not  Judaism,  it  is  not  true 
Judaism.     God  never  made  any  such  law." 

"  Hush!"  said  Reb  Shemuel  sternly.  "  It  is  the  holy  Torah. 
It  is  not  even  the  Rabbis,  of  whom  you  speak  like  an  Epicurean. 
It  is  in  Leviticus,  chapter  21,  verse  7  :  ^  Neither  shall  they  take  a 
woman  put  away  from  her  husband ;  for  he  is  holy  unto  his  God. 
Thou  shalt  sanctify  him,  therefore ;  for  he  offer eth  the  bread  of 
thy  God ;  he  shall  be  holy  unto  thee,  for  I  the  Lord  which  sanctify 
you  a?n  holy.''  " 

For  an  instant  David  was  overwhelmed  by  the  quotation, 
for  the  Bible  was  still  a  sacred  book  to  him.  Then  he  cried 
indignantly : 

"  But  God  never  meant  it  to  apply  to  a  case  like  this! " 

"We  must  obey  God's  law,"  said  Reb  Shemuel. 

"  Then  it  is  the  deviPs  law ! "  shouted  David,  losing  all  control 
of  himself. 

The  Reb's  face  grew  dark  as  night.  There  was  a  moment  of 
dread  silence. 

"  Here  you  are,  father,"  said  Hannah,  returning  with  the  wine 
and  some  glasses  which  she  had  carefully  dusted.  Then  she 
paused  and  gave  a  little  cry,  nearly  losing  her  hold  of  the 
tray. 

"What's  the  matter?  What  has  happened?"  she  asked 
anxiously. 

"Take  away  the  wine  —  we  shall  drink  nobody's  health  to- 
night," cried  David  brutally. 

"  My  God!  "  said  Hannah,  all  the  hue  of  happiness  dying  out 
of  her  cheeks.  She  threw  down  the  tray  on  the  table  and  ran 
to  her  father's  arms. 

"What  is  it!  Oh,  what  is  it,  father?"  she  cried.  "You 
haven't  had  a  quarrel  ? " 

The  old  man  was  silent.  The  girl  looked  appealingly  from 
one  to  the  other. 

"  No,  it's  worse  than  that,"  said  David  in  cold,  harsh  tones. 
"  You  remember  your  marriage  in  fun  to  Sam  ?  " 

"Yes.  Merciful  heavens!  I  guess  it!  There  was  something 
not  valid  in  the  Gett  after  all." 


292  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

Her  anguish  at  the  thought  of  losing  him  was  so  apparent 
that  he  softened  a  httle. 

"  No,  not  that/''  he  said  more  gently.  ''  But  this  blessed 
religion  of  ours  reckons  you  a  divorced  woman,  and  so  you 
canH  marry  me  because  Fm  a  Cohen.'''' 

"  Can't  marry  you  because  you're  a  Cohen  ! ''  repeated  Hannah, 
dazed  in  her  turn. 

"  We  must  obey  the  Torah,"  said  Reb  Shemuel  again,  in  low, 
solemn  tones.  "It  is  your  friend  Levine  who  has  erred,  not  the 
Torah." 

"  The  Torah  cannot  visit  a  mere  bit  of  fun  so  cruelly,"  pro- 
tested David.     "And  on  the  innocent,  too.'' 

"Sacred  things  should  not  be  jested  with,"  said  the  old  man 
in  stern  tones  that  yet  quavered  with  sympathy  and  pity.  "On 
his  head  is  the  sin  ;   on  his  head  is  the  responsibility," 

"  Father,"  cried  Hannah  in  piercing  tones,  "  can  nothing  be 
done?" 

The  old  man  shook  his  head  sadly.  The  poor,  pretty  face 
was  pallid  with  a  pain  too  deep  for  tears.  The  shock  was  too 
sudden,  too  terrible.     She  sank  helplessly  into  a  chair. 

"  Something  must  be  done,  something  shall  be  done,"  thun- 
dered David.     "I  will  appeal  to  the  Chief  Rabbi." 

"  And  what  can  he  do?  Can  he  go  behind  the  Torah?"  said 
Reb  Shemuel  pitifully. 

"  1  won't  ask  him  to.  But  if  he  has  a  grain  of  common  sense 
he  will  see  that  our  case  is  an  exception,  and  cannot  come  under 
the  Law." 

"  The  Law  knows  no  exceptions."  said  Reb  Shemuel  gently, 
quoting  in  Hebrew,  "'The  Law  of  God  is  perfect,  enlightening 
the  eyes.'  Be  patient,  my  dear  children,  in  your  affliction. 
It  is  the  will  of  God.  The  Lord  giveth  and  the  Lord  taketh 
away  —  bless  ye  the  name  of  the  Lord." 

'-  Not  I !  "  said  David  harshly.  '-  But  look  to  Hannah.  She 
has  fainted." 

"  No,  I  am  all  right,"  said  Hannah  wearily,  opening  the  eyes 
she  had  closed.  "  Do  not  make  so  certain,  father.  Look  at  your 
books  again.     Perhaps  they  do  make  an  exception  in  such  a  case." 


THE   SHADOW   OF  RELIGION.  293 

The  Reb  shook  his  head  hopelessly. 

"Do  not  expect  that,"  he  said.  "  Believe  me,  my  Hannah,  if 
there  were  a  gleam  of  hope  I  would  not  hide  it  from  you.  Be  a 
good  girl,  dear,  and  bear  your  trouble  like  a  true  Jewish  maiden. 
Have  faith  in  God,  my  child.  He  doeth  all  things  for  the  best. 
Come  now  —  rouse  yourself.  Tell  David  you  will  always  be  a 
friend,  and  that  your  father  will  love  him  as  though  he  were 
indeed  his  son."  He  moved  towards  her  and  touched  her  ten- 
derly.    He  felt  a  violent  spasm  traversing  her  bosom. 

"I  can't,  father,"  she  cried  in  a  choking  voice.  "  I  can't. 
Don't  ask  me." 

David  leaned  against  the  manuscript-littered  table  in  stony 
silence.  The  stern  granite  faces  of  the  old  continental  Rabbis 
seemed  to  frown  down  on  him  from  the  walls  and  he  returned 
the  frown  with  interest.  His  heart  was  full  of  bitterness,  con- 
tempt, revolt.  What  a  pack  of  knavish  bigots  they  must  all 
have  been!  Reb  Shemuel  bent  down  and  took  his  daughter's 
head  in  his  trembling  palms.  The  eyes  were  closed  again,  the 
chest  heaved  painfully  with  silent  sobs. 

"  Do  you  love  him  so  much,  Hannah  ?  "  whispered  the  old  man. 

Her  sobs  answered,  growing  loud  at  last. 

"But  you  love  your  religion  more,  my  child?"  he  murmured 
anxiously.     "That  will  bring  you  peace." 

Her  sobs  gave  him  no  assurance.  Presently  the  contagion 
of  sobbing  took  him  too. 

"O  God!  God!"  he  moaned.  "What  sin  have  I  committed 
that  thou  shouldst  punish  my  child  thus?  " 

"  Dotvt  blame  God!"  burst  forth  David  at  last.  "It's  your 
own  foolish  bigotry.  Is  it  not  enough  your  daughter  doesn't 
ask  to  marry  a  Christian?  Be  thankful,  old  man,  for  that  and 
put  away  all  this  antiquated  superstition.  We're  living  in  the 
nineteenth  century." 

"And  what  if  we  are!  "  said  Reb  Shemuel,  blazing  up  in  turn. 
"The  Torah  is  eternal.  Thank  God  for  your  youth,  and  your 
health  and  strength,  and  do  not  blaspheme  Him  because  you 
cannot  have  all  the  desire  of  your  heart  or  the  inclination  of  your 
eyes." 


294  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

"  The  desire  of  my  heart,"  retorted  David.  '*  Do  you  imagine 
I  am  only  thinking  of  my  own  suffering  ?  Look  at  your  daughter 
—  think  of  what  you  are  doing  to  her  and  beware  before  it  is  too 
late/' 

"Is  it  in  my  hand  to  do  or  to  forbear?  "  asked  the  old  man. 
"  It  is  the  Torah.     Am  I  responsible  for  that  ? " 

"Yes/'  said  David,  out  of  mere  revolt.  Then,  seeking  to 
justify  himself,  his  face  lit  up  with  sudden  inspiration.  "Who 
need  ever  know?  The  Maggid  is  dead.  Old  Hyams  has  gone 
to  America.  So  Hannah  has  told  me.  It's  a  thousand  to  one 
Leah's  people  never  heard  of  the  Law  of  Leviticus.  If  they  had, 
it's  another  thousand  to  one  against  their  putting  two  and  two 
together.  It  requires  a  Talmudist  like  you  to  even  dream  of 
reckoning  Hannah  as  an  ordinary  divorced  woman.  If  they  did, 
it's  a  third  thousand  to  one  against  their  telling  anybody.  There 
is  no  need  for  you  to  perform  the  ceremony  yourself.  Let  her 
be  married  by  some  other  minister  —  by  the  Chief  Rabbi  himself, 
and  to  make  assurance  doubly  sure  I'll  not  mention  that  I'm  a 
Cohen!'''  The  words  poured  forth  like  a  torrent,  overwhelming 
the  Reb  for  a  moment.  Hannah  leaped  up  with  a  hysterical  cry 
of  joy. 

"  Yes,  yes,  father.  It  will  be  all  right,  after  all.  Nobody 
knows.     Oh,  thank  God!  thank  God!" 

There  was  a  moment  of  tense  silence.  Then  the  old  man's 
voice  rose  slowly  and  painfully. 

"Thank  God:"  he  repeated.  "Do  you  dare  mention  the 
Name  even  when  you  propose  to  profane  it?  Do  you  ask  me, 
your  father,  Reb  Shemuel,  to  consent  to  such  a  profanation  of 
the  Name?" 

"And  why  not?"  said  David  angrily.  "Whom  else  has  a 
daughter  the  right  to  ask  mercy  from,  if  not  her  father?" 

"  God  have  mercy  on  me !  "  groaned  the  old  Reb,  covering  his 
face  with  his  hands. 

"  Come,  come!"  said  David  impatiently.  "  Be  sensible.  It's 
nothing  unworthy  of  you  at  all.  Hannah  was  never  really  mar- 
ried, so  cannot  be  really  divorced.  We  only  ask  you  to  obey  the 
spirit  of  the  Torah  instead  of  the  letter." 


THE   SHADOW   OF  RELIGION.  295 

The  old  man  shook  his  head,  unwavering.  His  cheeks  were 
white  and  wet,  but  his  expression  was  stern  and  solemn. 

"  Just  think  ! ''  went  on  David  passionately.  "  What  am  I 
better  than  another  Jew  —  than  yourself  for  instance — that  I 
shouldn't  marry  a  divorced  woman?" 

"  It  is  the  Law.     You  are  a  Cohen  — a  priest." 

"A  priest,  Ha!  Ha!  Ha!  "  laughed  David  bitterly.  "A  priest 
—  in  the  nineteenth  century!  When  the  Temple  has  been  de- 
stroyed these  two  thousand  years." 

"It  will  be  rebuilt,  please  God,"  said  Reb  Shemuel.  "We 
must  be  ready  for  it." 

"Oh  yes,  ril  be  ready  — Ha!  Ha!  Ha!  A  priest!  Holy  unto 
the  Lord — I  a  priest!  Ha!  Ha!  Ha!  Do  you  know  what  my 
holiness  consists  in?  In  eating  ti'ipha  meat,  and  going  to  Shool 
a  few  times  a  year  !  And  I,  /am  too  holy  to  va^xry your  daughter. 
Oh,  it  is  rich !  "  He  ended  in  uncontrollable  mirth,  slapping  his 
knee  in  ghastly  enjoyment. 

His  laughter  rang  terrible.  Reb  Shemuel  trembled  from  head 
to  foot.  Hannah's  cheek  was  drawn  and  white.  She  seemed 
overwrought  beyond  endurance.  There  followed  a  silence  only 
less  terrible  than  David's  laughter. 

"  A  Cohen,''''  burst  forth  David  again.  "  A  holy  Cohen  up  to 
date.  Do  you  know  what  the  boys  say  about  us  priests  when 
weVe  blessing  you  common  people  ?  They  say  that  if  you  look 
on  us  once  during  that  sacred  function,  you'll  get  blind,  and  if 
you  look  on  us  a  second  time  you'll  die.  A  nice  reverent  joke 
that,  eh!  Ha!  Ha!  Ha!  You're  blind  already,  Reb  Shemuel. 
Beware  you  don't  look  at  me  again  or  I'll  commence  to  bless 
you.     Ha!  Ha!  Ha!" 

Again  the  terrible  silence. 

"  Ah  well,"  David  resumed,  his  bitterness  welling  forth  in 
irony.  "  And  so  the  first  sacrifice  the  priest  is  called  upon  to 
make  is  that  of  your  daughter.  But  I  won't,  Reb  Shemuel, 
mark  my  words  ;  I  won't,  not  till  she  offers  her  own  throat  to  the 
knife.  If  she  and  I  are  parted,  on  you  and  you  alone  the  guilt 
must  rest.      Von  will  have  to  perform  the  sacrifice." 

"  What  God  wishes  me  to  do  I  will  do,"  said  the  old  man  in  a 


296  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

broken  voice.  '"What  is  it  to  that  wliich  our  ancestors  suffered 
for  the  glory  of  the  Name  ?  " 

''Yes,  but  it  seems  you  suffer  by  proxy/'  retorted  David, 
savagely. 

"  My  God !  Do  you  think  I  would  not  die  to  make  Hannah 
happy? ''  faltered  the  old  man.  "  But  God  has  laid  the  burden 
on  her  —  and  I  can  only  help  her  to  bear  it.  And  now,  sir,  I 
must  beg  you  to  go.     You  do  but  distress  my  child." 

"What  say  you,  Hannah?     Do  you  wish  me  to  go?" 

"Yes  —  What  is  the  use  —  now?"  breathed  Hannah  through 
white  quivering  lips. 

"My  child!''  said  the  old  man  pitifully,  while  he  strained  her 
to  his  breast. 

"  All  right! "  said  David  in  strange  harsh  tones,  scarcely  recog- 
nizable as  his.     "  I  see  you  are  your  father's  daughter." 

He  took  his  hat  and  turned  his  back  upon  the  tragic  embrace. 

"David!  "  She  called  his  name  in  an  agonized  hoarse  voice. 
She  held  her  arms  towards  him.     He  did  not  turn  round. 

"David!"     Her  voice  rose  to  a  shriek.     "  You  will  not  leave 


me 


?  11 


He  faced  her  exultant. 

"Ah,  you  will  come  with  me.     You  will  be  my  wife." 
"No — no  —  not  now,  not  now.     I  cannot  answer  you  now. 
Let  me  think  —  good-bye,  dearest,  good-bye."      She  burst  out 
weeping.     David  took  her  in  his  arms  and  kissed  her  passion- 
ately.    Then  he  went  out  hurriedly. 

Hannah  wept  on  —  her  father  holding  her  hand  in  piteous 
silence. 

"  Oh,  it  is  cruel,  your  religion,"  she  sobbed.     "  Cruel,  cruel!  " 
"  Hannah!  Shemuel!  Where  are  you?"  suddenly  came  the  ex- 
cited voice  of  Simcha  from  the  passage.      "  Come  and  look  at 
the    lovely   fowls    I've    bought  —  and   such    Metsiahs.     They're 
worth  double.     Oh.  wliat  a  beautiful  Yointov  we  shall  have!" 


SEDER  NIGHT.  297 

CHAPTER  XXV. 

SEDER    NIGHT. 

"  Prosaic  miles  of  street  stretch  all  around, 
Astir  with  restless,  hurried  life,  and  spanned 
By  arches  that  with  thund'rous  trains  resound, 
And  throbbing  wires  that  galvanize  the  land; 
Gin  palaces  in  tawdry  splendor  stand ; 
The  newsboys  shriek  of  mangled  bodies  found; 
The  last  burlesque  is  playing  in  the  Strand  — 
In  modern  prose,  all  poetry  seems  drowned. 
Yet  in  ten  thousand  homes  this  April  night 
An  ancient  people  celebrates  its  birth 
To  Freedom,  with  a  reverential  mirth, 
With  customs  quaint  and  many  a  hoary  rite, 
Waiting  until,  its  tarnished  glories  bright. 
Its  God  shall  be  the  God  of  all  the  Earth," 

To  an  imaginative  child  like  Esther,  Seder  night  was  a 
charmed  time.  The  strange  symbolic  dishes — the  bitter  herbs 
and  the  sweet  mixture  of  apples,  almonds,  spices  and  wine,  the 
roasted  bone  and  the  lamb,  the  salt  water  and  the  four  cups  of 
raisin  wine,  the  great  round  unleavened  cakes,  with  their  mottled 
surfaces,  some  specially  thick  and  sacred,  the  special  Hebrew 
melodies  and  verses  with  their  jingle  of  rh}'mes  and  assonances, 
the  quaint  ceremonial  with  its  striking  moments,  as  when  the 
finger  was  dipped  in  the  wine  and  the  drops  sprinkled  over  the 
shoulder  in  repudiation  of  the  ten  plagues  of  Egypt  cabalistically 
magnified  to  two  hundred  and  fifty ;  all  this  penetrated  deep  into 
her  consciousness  and  made  the  recurrence  of  every  Passover 
coincide  with  a  rush  of  pleasant  anticipations  and  a  sense  of  the 
special  privilege  of  being  born  a  happy  Jewish  child.  Vaguely, 
indeed,  did  she  co-ordinate  the  celebration  with  the  history  en- 
shrined in  it  or  with  the  prospective  history  of  her  race.  It  was 
like  a  tale  out  of  the  fairy-books,  this  miraculous  deliverance  of 
her   forefathers  in  the  dim   haze  of  antiquity ;  true  enough  but 


298  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

not  more  definitely  realized  on  that  account.  And  yet  not  easily 
dissoluble  links  were  being  forged  with  her  race,  which  has  antici- 
pated Positivism,  in  vitalizing  history  by  making  it  religion. 

The  Matzoth  that  Esther  ate  were  not  dainty  —  they  were 
coarse,  of  the  quality  called  "  seconds,"  for  even  the  unleavened 
bread  of  charity  is  not  necessarily  delicate  eating — but  few 
things  melted  sweeter  on  the  palate  than  a  segment  of  a  Matso 
dipped  in  cheap  raisin  wine ;  the  unconventionality  of  the  food 
made  life  less  common,  more  picturesque.  Simple  Ghetto  chil- 
dren into  whose  existence  the  ceaseless  round  of  fast  and  feast, 
of  prohibited  and  enjoyed  pleasures,  of  varying  species  of  food, 
brought  change  and  relief!  Imprisoned  in  the  area  of  a  few  nar- 
row streets,  unlovely  and  sombre,  muddy  and  ill-smelling,  im- 
mured in  dreary  houses  and  surrounded  with  mean  and  depressing 
sights  and  sounds,  the  spirit  of  childhood  took  radiance  and 
color  from  its  own  inner  light  and  the  alchemy  of  youth  could 
still  transmute  its  lead  to  gold.  No  little  princess  in  the  courts 
of  fairyland  could  feel  a  fresher  interest  and  pleasure  in  life  than 
Esther  sitting  at  the  Seder  table,  where  her  father —  no  longer  a 
slave  in  Egypt  —  leaned  royally  upon  two  chairs  supplied  with 
pillows  as  the  Dili  prescribes.  Not  even  the  monarch's  prime 
minister  could  have  had  a  meaner  opinion  of  Pharaoh  than 
Moses  Ansell  in  this  symbolically  sybaritic  attitude.  A  live  dog 
is  better  than  a  dead  lion,  as  a  great  teacher  in  Israel  had  said. 
How  much  better  then  a  live  lion  than  a  dead  dog?  Pharaoh, 
for  all  his  purple  and  fine  linen  and  his  treasure  cities,  was  at  the 
bottom  of  the  Red  Sea,  smitten  with  two  hundred  and  fifty 
plagues,  and  even  if,  as  tradition  asserted,  he  had  been  made  to 
live  on  and  on  to  be  King  of  Nineveh,  and  to  give  ear  to  the 
warnings  of  Jonah,  prophet  and  whale-explorer,  even  so  he  was 
but  dust  and  ashes  for  other  sinners  to  cover  themselves  withal ; 
but  he,  Moses  Ansell,  was  the  honored  master  of  his  household, 
enjoying  a  foretaste  of  the  lollings  of  the  righteous  in  Paradise ; 
nay,  more,  dispensing  hospitality  to  the  poor  and  the  hungry. 
Little  fleas  have  lesser  fleas,  and  Moses  Ansell  had  never  fallen 
so  low  but  that,  on  this  night  of  nights  when  the  slave  sits  with 
the  master  on  equal  terms,  he  could  manage  to  entertain  a  Pass- 


SEDER  NIGHT.  299 

over  guest,  usually  some  newly-arrived  Greener,  or  some  nonde- 
script waif  and  stray  returned  to  Judaism  for  tlie  occasion  and 
accepting  a  seat  at  the  board  in  that  spirit  of  camaraderie  which 
is  one  of  the  most  delightful  features  of  the  Jewish  pauper.  Seder 
was  a  ceremonial  to  be  taken  in  none  too  solemn  and  sober  a 
spirit,  and  there  was  an  abundance  of  unreproved  giggling 
throughout  from  the  little  ones,  especially  in  those  happy  days 
when  mother  was  alive  and  tried  to  steal  the  AJikuinan  or  Matso 
specially  laid  aside  for  the  final  morsel,  only  to  be  surrendered 
to  father  when  he  promised  to  grant  her  whatever  she  wished. 
Alas!  it  is  to  be  feared  Mrs.  Ansell's  wislies  did  not  soar  high. 
There  was  more  giggling  when  the  youngest  talking  son  —  it 
was  poor  Benjamin  in  Esther's  earliest  recollections — opened 
the  ball  by  inquiring  in  a  peculiarly  pitched  incantation  and  with 
an  air  of  blank  ignorance  why  this  night  differed  from  all  other 
nights  —  in  view  of  the  various  astonishing  peculiarities  of  food 
and  behavior  (enumerated  in  detail)  visible  to  his  vision.  To 
which  Moses  and  the  Bnbe  and  the  rest  of  the  company  (includ- 
ing the  questioner)  invariably  replied  in  corresponding  sing- 
song :  "  Slaves  have  we  been  in  Egypt,"  proceeding  to  recount 
at  great  length,  stopping  for  refreshment  in  the  middle,  the 
never-cloying  tale  of  the  great  deliverance,  with  irrelevant  digres- 
sions concerning  Haman  and  Daniel  and  the  wise  men  of  Bona 
Berak,  the  whole  of  this  most  ancient  of  the  world's  extant  domes- 
tic rituals  terminating  with  an  allegorical  ballad  like  the  "  house 
that  Jack  built,"  concerning  a  kid  that  was  eaten  by  a  cat,  which 
was  bitten  by  a  dog,  which  was  beaten  by  a  stick,  which  was 
burned  by  a  fire,  which  w^as  quenched  by  some  water,  which  was 
drunk  by  an  ox,  which  was  slaughtered  by  a  slaughterer,  who 
was  slain  by  the  Angel  of  Death,  who  was  slain  by  the  Holy  One, 
blessed  be  He. 

In  wealthy  houses  this  Hagadah  was  read  from  manuscripts 
with  rich  illuminations  —  the  one  development  of  pictorial  art 
among  the  Jews  —  but  the  Ansells  had  wretchedly-printed 
little  books  containing  quaint  but  unintentionally  comic  wood- 
cuts, pre-Raphaelite  in  perspective  and  ludicrous  in  draughts- 
manship,   depicting   the    Miracles    of    the    Redemption,    Moses 


300  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

burying  the  Egyptian,  and  sundry  other  passages  of  the  text. 
In  one  a  king  was  praying  in  the  Temple  to  an  exploding 
bomb  intended  to  represent  the  Shechinah  or  divine  glory. 
In  another,  Sarah  attired  in  a  matronly  cap  and  a  fashionable 
jacket  and  skirt,  was  standing  behind  the  door  of  the  tent,  a 
solid  detached  villa  on  the  brink  of  a  lake,  whereon  ships 
and  gondolas  floated,  what  time  Abraham  welcomed  the  three 
celestial  messengers,  unobtrusively  disguised  with  heavy  pinions. 
What  delight  as  the  quaffing  of  each  of  the  four  cups  of  wine 
loomed  in  sight,  what  disappointment  and  mutual  bantering 
when  the  cup  had  merely  to  be  raised  in  the  hand,  what  chaflf 
of  the  greedy  Solomon  who  was  careful  not  to  throw  awav  a 
drop  during  the  digital  manoeuvres  when  the  wine  must  be 
jerked  from  the  cup  at  the  mention  of  each  plague.  And 
what  a  solemn  moment  was  that  when  the  tallest  goblet  was 
filled  to  the  brim  for  the  delectation  of  the  prophet  Elijah  and  the 
door  thrown  open  for  his  entry.  Could  one  almost  hear  the 
rustling  of  the  prophet's  spirit  through  the  room?  And  what 
though  the  level  of  the  wine  subsided  not  a  barley-corn? 
Elijah,  though  there  was  no  difficulty  in  his  being  in  all  parts 
of  the  world  simultaneously,  could  hardly  compass  the  greater 
miracle  of  emptying  so  many  million  goblets.  Historians  have 
traced  this  custom  of  opening  the  door  to  the  necessity  of 
asking  the  world  to  look  in  and  see  for  itself  that  no  blood 
of  Christian  child  figured  in  the  ceremonial  —  and  for  once 
science  has  illumined  naive  superstition  witli  a  tragic  glow 
more  poetic  still.  For  the  London  Ghetto  persecution  had 
dwindled  to  an  occasional  bellowing  through  the  keyhole,  as 
the  local  rowdies  heard  the  unaccustomed  melodies  trolled 
forth  from  jocund  lungs  and  then  the  singers  would  stop  for 
a  moment,  startled,  and  some  one  would  say :  "  Oh,  it's  only 
a  Christian  rough,''  and  take  up  the  thread  of  song. 

And  then,  when  the  Afikiimcui  had  been  eaten  and  the 
last  cup  of  wine  drunk,  and  it  was  time  to  go  to  bed,  what 
a  sweet  sense  of  sanctity  and  security  still  reigned.  No  need 
to  say  your  prayers  to-night,  beseeching  the  guardian  of  Israel, 
who  neither  slumbereth  nor  sleepeth,  to  watch  over  you  and 


SEDER  NIGHT.  301 

chase  away  the  evil  spirits ;  the  angels  are  with  you  —  Ga- 
briel on  your  right  and  Raphael  on  your  left,  and  Michael  be- 
hind you.  All  about  the  Ghetto  the  light  of  the  Passover 
rested,  transfiguring  the  dreary  rooms  and  illumining  the  gray 
lives. 

Dutch  Debby  sat  beside  Mrs.  Simons  at  the  table  of  that 
good  souPs  married  daughter;  the  same  who  had  suckled  little 
Sarah.  Esther's  frequent  eulogiums  had  secured  the  poor 
lonely  narrow-chested  seamstress  this  enormous  concession 
and  privilege.  Bobby  squatted  on  the  mat  in  the  passage 
ready  to  challenge  Elijah.  At  this  table  there  were  two  pieces 
of  fried  fish  sent  to  Mrs.  Simons  by  Esther  Ansell.  They  repre- 
sented the  greatest  revenge  of  Esther's  life,  and  she  felt  remorse- 
ful towards  Malka,  remembering  to  whose  gold  she  owed  this 
proud  moment.  She  made  up  her  mind  to  write  her  a  letter  of 
apology  in  her  best  hand. 

At  the  Belcovitches'  the  ceremonial  was  long,  for  the  master 
of  it  insisted  on  translating  the  Hebrew  into  jargon,  phrase  by 
phrase ;  but  no  one  found  it  tedious,  especially  after  supper. 
Pesach  was  there,  hand  in  hand  with  Fanny,  their  wedding 
very  near  now ;  and  Becky  lolled  royally  in  all  her  glory, 
aggressive  of  ringlet,  insolently  unattached,  a  conscious  beacon 
of  bedazzlement  to  the  pauper  Pollack  we  last  met  at  Reb 
Shemuel's  Sabbath  table,  and  there,  too,  was  Chayah,  she 
of  the  ill-matched  legs.  Be  sure  that  Malka  had  returned  the 
clothes-brush,  and  was  throned  in  complacent  majesty  at  Milly's 
table ;  and  that  Sugarman  the  S/iadcha?i  forgave  his  monocular 
consort  her  lack  of  a  fourth  uncle ;  while  Joseph  Strelitski, 
dreamer  of  dreams,  rich  with  commissions  from  "  Passover " 
cigars,  brooded  on  the  Great  Exodus.  Nor  could  the  Shalotten 
Shcumnos  be  other  than  beaming,  ordering  the  complex  cere- 
monial with  none  to  contradict ;  nor  Karlkammer  be  otherwise 
than  in  the  seven  hundred  and  seventy-seventh  heaven,  which, 
calculated  by  Gematriyah,  can  easily  be  reduced  to  the  seventh. 

Shosshi  Shmendrik  did  not  fail  to  explain  the  deliverance  to 
the  ex-widow  Finkelstein,  nor  Guedalyah,  the  greengrocer,  omit 
to  hold  his  annual  revel  at  the  head  of  half  a  hundred  merry 


302  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

"pauper-aliens.'"  Christian  roughs  bawled  derisively  in  the 
street,  especially  when  doors  were  opened  for  Elijah  ;  but  hard 
words  break  no  bones,  and  the  Ghetto  w^as  uplifted  above  insult. 

Melchitsedek  Pinchas  was  the  Passover  guest  at  Reb  Shem- 
uePs  table,  for  the  reek  of  his  Sabbath  cigar  had  not  penetrated 
to  the  old  man's  nostrils.  It  was  a  great  night  for  Pinchas; 
wrought  up  to  fervid  nationalistic  aspirations  by  the  memory  of 
the  Egyptian  deliverance,  which  he  yet  regarded  as  mythical  in 
its  details.  It  was  a  terrible  night  for  Hannah,  sitting  opposite 
to  him  under  the  fire  of  his  poetic  regard.  She  was  pale  and 
rigid,  moving  and  speaking  mechanically.  Her  father  glanced 
towards  her  every  now  and  again,  compassionately,  but  with 
trust  that  the  worst  was  over.  Her  mother  realized  the  crisis 
much  less  keenly  than  he,  not  having  been  in  the  heart  of  the 
storm.  She  had  never  even  seen  her  intended  son-in-law  except 
through  the  lens  of  a  camera.  She  was  sorry  —  that  was  all. 
Now  that  Hannah  had  broken  the  ice,  and  encouraged  one 
young  man,  there  was  hope  for  the  others. 

Hannah's  state  of  mind  was  divined  by  neither  parent.  Love 
itself  is  blind  in  those  tragic  silences  which  divide  souls. 

All  night,  after  that  agonizing  scene,  she  did  not  sleep ;  the 
feverish  activity  of  her  mind  rendered  that  impossible,  and  un- 
erring instinct  told  her  that  David  was  awake  also  —  that  they 
two,  amid  the  silence  of  a  sleeping  city,  wrestled  in  the  darkness 
with  the  same  terrible  problem,  and  were  never  so  much  at  one 
as  in  this  their  separation.  A  letter  came  for  her  in  the  morn- 
ing. It  was  unstamped,  and  had  evidently  been  dropped  into 
the  letter-box  by  David's  hand.  It  appointed  an  interview  at 
fen  o'clock  at  a  corner  of  the  Ruins  ;  of  course,  he  could  not 
come  to  the  house.  Hannah  was  out  with  a  little  basket  to 
make  some  purchases.  There  was  a  cheery  hum  of  life  about 
the  Ghetto  ;  a  pleasant  festival  bustle  ;  the  air  resounded  with 
the  raucous  clucking  of  innumerable  fowls  on  their  way  to  the 
feather-littered,  blood-stained  shambles,  where  professional  cut- 
throats wielded  sacred  knives ;  boys  armed  with  little  braziers 
of  glowing  coal  ran  about  the  Ruins,  offering  halfpenny  pyres 
for  the  immolation  of  the  last  crumbs  of  leaven.     Nobody  paid 


SEDER  NIGHT.  303 

the  slightest  attention  to  the  two  tragic  figures  whose  lives 
turned  on  the  brief  moments  of  conversation  snatched  in  the 
thick  of  the  hurrying  crowd. 

David^s  clouded  face  lightened  a  little  as  he  saw  Hannah 
advancing  towards  him. 

"  I  knew  you  would  come,"  he  said,  taking  her  hand  for  a 
moment.  His  palm  burned,  hers  was  cold  and  limp.  The 
stress  of  a  great  tempest  of  emotion  had  driven  the  blood  from 
her  face  and  limbs,  but  inwardly  she  was  on  fire.  As  they 
looked  each  read  revolt  in  the  other's  eyes. 

"  Let  us  walk  on,"  he  said. 

They  moved  slowly  forwards.  The  ground  was  slippery  and 
muddy  under  foot.  The  sky  was  gray.  But  the  gayety  of  the 
crowds  neutralized  the  dull  squalor  of  the  scene. 

"  Well?  "  he  said,  in  a  low  tone. 

"  I  thought  you  had  something  to  propose,"  she  murmured. 

"  Let  me  carry  your  basket." 

"No,  no;  go  on.     What  have  you  determined?" 

"Not  to  give  you  up,  Hannah,  while  I  live." 

"Ah!"  she  said  quietly.  "I  have  thought  it  all  over,  too, 
and  I  shall  not  leave  you.  But  our  marriage  by  Jewish  law  is 
impossible ;  we  could  not  marry  at  any  synagogue  without  my 
father's  knowledge ;  and  he  would  at  once  inform  the  authorities 
of  the  bar  to  our  union." 

"  I  know,  dear.  But  let  us  go  to  America,  where  no  one  will 
know.  There  we  shall  find  plenty  of  Rabbis  to  marry  us. 
There  is  nothing  to  tie  me  to  this  country.  I  can  start  my 
business  in  America  just  as  well  as  here.  Your  parents,  too, 
will  think  more  kindly  of  you  when  you  are  across  the  seas. 
Forgiveness  is  easier  at  a  distance.     What  do  you  say,  dear?" 

She  shook  her  head. 

"Why  should  we  be  married  in  a  synagogue?"  she  asked. 

"Why?"  repeated  he,  puzzled. 

"Yes,  why?" 

"  Because  we  are  Jews." 

"You  would  use  Jewish  forms  to  outwit  Jewish  laws?"  she 
asked  quietly. 


304  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

"No,  no.  Why  should  you  put  it  that  way?  I  don't  doubt 
the  Bible  is  all  right  in  making  the  laws  it  does.  After  the  first 
heat  of  my  anger  was  over,  I  saw  the  whole  thing  in  its  proper 
bearings.  Those  laws  about  priests  were  only  intended  for  the 
days  when  we  had  a  Temple,  and  in  any  case  they  cannot  apply 
to  a  merely  farcical  divorce  like  yours.  It  is  these  old  fools, — 
I  beg  your  pardon,  —  it  is  these  fanatical  Rabbis  who  insist  on 
giving  them  a  rigidity  God  never  meant  them  to  have,  just  as 
they  still  make  a  fuss  about  kosher  meat.  In  America  they  are 
less  strict ;  besides,  they  will  not  know  I  am  a  Cohen  y 

"No,  David,"  said  Hannah  firmly.  "There  must  be  no  more 
deceit.  What  need  have  we  to  seek  the  sanction  of  any  Rabbi? 
If  Jewish  law  cannot  marry  us  without  our  hiding  something, 
then  I  will  have  nothing  to  do  with  Jewish  law.  You  know  my 
opinions ;  I  haven't  gone  so  deeply  into  religious  questions  as 
you  have  —  " 

"  Don't  be  sarcastic,"  he  interrupted. 

"  I  have  always  been  sick  to  death  of  this  eternal  ceremony, 
this  endless  coil  of  laws  winding  round  us  and  cramping  our 
lives  at  every  turn  ;  and  now  it  has  become  too  oppressive  to  be 
borne  any  longer.  Why  should  we  let  it  ruin  our  lives?  And 
why,  if  we  determine  to  break  from  it,  shall  we  pretend  to  keep 
to  it?  What  do  you  care  for  Judaism?  You  eat  triphas,  you 
smoke  on  Shabbos  when  you  want  to  —  " 

"Yes,  I  know,  perhaps  I'm  wrong.  But  everybody  does  it 
now-a-days.  When  I  was  a  boy  nobody  dared  be  seen  riding  in 
a  'bus  on  Shabbos  —  now  you  meet  lots.  But  all  that  is  only  old- 
fashioned  Judaism.  There  must  be  a  God,  else  we  shouldn't  be 
here,  and  it's  impossible  to  believe  that  Jesus  was  He.  A  man 
must  have  some  religion,  and  there  isn't  anything  better.  But 
that's  neither  here  nor  there.  If  you  don't  care  for  my  plan,"  he 
concluded  anxiously,  "  what's  yours?" 

"  Let  us  be  married  honestly  by  a  Registrar." 

"  Any  way  you  like,  dear,"  he  said  readily,  "  so  long  as  we  are 
married  —  and  quickly." 

"As  quickly  as  you  like." 

He  seized  her  disengaged  hand  and  pressed  it  passionately. 


SEDER  NIGHT.  305 

"  That's  my  own  darling  Hannah.  Oh,  if  you  could  realize  what 
I  felt  last  night  when  you  seemed  to  be  drifting  away  from  me.-' 

There  was  an  interval  of  silence,  each  thinking  excitedly. 
Then  David  said : 

"  But  have  you  the  courage  to  do  this  and  remain  in  London  ?  " 

"  I  have  courage  for  anything.  But,  as  you  say,  it  might  be 
better  to  travel.  It  will  be  less  of  a  break  if  we  break  away  alto- 
gether—  change  everything  at  once.  It  sounds  contradictory, 
but  you  understand  what  I  mean.'" 

"  Perfectly.  It  is  difficult  to  live  a  new  life  with  all  the  old 
things  round  you.  Besides,  why  should  we  give  our  friends  the 
chance  to  cold-shoulder  us?  They  will  find  all  sorts  of  mali- 
cious reasons  why  we  were  not  married'in  a  S/iooI,  and  if  they  hit 
on  the  true  one  they  may  even  regard  our  marriage  as  illegal. 
Let  us  go  to  America,  as  I  proposed." 

"  Very  well.     Do  we  go  direct  from  London?" 

"No,  from  Liverpool." 

"Then  we  can  be  married  at  Liverpool  before  sailing?" 

"  A  good  idea.     But  when  do  we  start  ? " 

"At  once.     To-night.     The  sooner  the  better." 

He  looked  at  her  quickly.  "  Do  you  mean  it? "  he  said.  His 
heart  beat  violently  as  if  it  would  burst.  Waves  of  dazzling  color 
swam  before  his  eyes. 

"  I  mean  it,"  she  said  gravely  and  quietly.  "  Do  you  think  I 
could  face  my  father  and  mother,  knowing  I  was  about  to  wound 
them  to  the  heart?  Each  day  of  delay  would  be  torture  to  me. 
Oh,  why  is  religion  such  a  curse  ?  "  She  paused,  overwhelmed 
for  a  moment  by  the  emotion  she  had  been  suppressing.  She  re- 
sumed in  the  same  quiet  manner.  "  Yes,  we  must  break  away  at 
once.  We  have  kept  our  last  Passover.  We  shall  have  to  eat  leav- 
ened food  —  it  will  be  a  decisive  break.  Take  me  to  Liverpool, 
David,  this  very  day.    You  are  my  chosen  husband  ;  I  trust  in  you." 

She  looked  at  him  frankly  wdth  her  dark  eyes  that  stood  out 
in  lustrous  relief  against  the  pale  skin.  He  gazed  into  those 
eyes,  and  a  flash  as  from  the  inner  heaven  of  purity  pierced  his 
soul. 

"  Thank  you,  dearest,"  he  said  in  a  voice  with  tears  in  it. 

X 


306  CHILDREN  OF  THE    GHETTO. 

They  walked  on  silently.  Speech  was  as  superfluous  as  it  was 
inadequate.  Wlien  they  spoke  again  their  voices  were  calm. 
The  peace  that  comes  of  resolute  decision  was  theirs  at  last, 
and  each  was  full  of  the  joy  of  daring  greatly  for  the  sake  of 
their  mutual  love.  Petty  as  their  departure  from  convention 
might  seem  to  the  stranger,  to  them  it  loomed  as  a  violent 
breach  with  all  the  traditions  of  the  Ghetto  and  their  past  lives ; 
they  were  venturing  forth  into  untrodden  paths,  holding  each 
other\s  hand. 

Jostling  the  loquacious  crowd,  in  the  unsavory  by-ways  of 
the  Ghetto,  in  the  gray  chillness  of  a  cloudy  morning,  Hannah 
seemed  to  herself  to  walk  in  enchanted  gardens,  breathing  the 
scent  of  love's  own  roses  mingled  with  the  keen  salt  air  that 
blew  in  from  the  sea  of  liberty.  A  fresh,  new  blessed  life  was 
opening  before  her.  The  clogging  vapors  of  the  past  were  roll- 
ing away  at  last.  The  unreasoning  instinctive  rebellion,  bred 
of  ennui  and  brooding  dissatisfaction  with  the  conditions  of  her 
existence  and  the  people  about  her,  had  by  a  curious  series  of 
accidents  been  hastened  to  its  acutest  development ;  thought 
had  at  last  fermented  into  active  resolution,  and  the  anticipation 
of  action  flooded  her  soul  with  peace  and  joy,  in  which  all 
recollection  of  outside  humanity  was  submerged. 

'^  What  time  can  you  be  ready  by?"  he  said  before  they 
parted. 

"  Any  time,''  she  answered.  "  I  can  take  nothing  with  me. 
I  dare  not  pack  anything.  I  suppose  I  can  get  necessaries  in 
Liverpool.     I  have  merely  my  hat  and  cloak  to  put  on." 

"  But  that  will  be  enough,"  he  said  ardently.  "  I  want  but 
you." 

"  I  know  it,  dear,"  she  answered  gently.  '^  If  you  were  as 
other  Jewish  young  men  I  could  not  give  up  all  else  for  you." 

"  You  shall  never  regret  it,  Hannah,"  he  said,  moved  to  his 
depths,  as  the  full  extent  of  her  sacrifice  for  love  dawned  upon 
him.  He  was  a  vagabond  on  the  face  of  the  earth,  but  she  was 
tearing  herself  away  from  deep  roots  in  the  soil  of  home,  as  well 
as  from  the  conventions  of  her  circle  and  her  sex.  Once  again 
he   trembled  with   a  sense  of  unworthiness,  a  sudden   anxious 


SEDER  NIGHT.  '         307 

doubt  if  he  were  noble  enough  to  repay  her  trust.  Mastering 
his  emotion,  he  went  on :  "I  reckon  my  packing  and  arrange- 
ments for  leaving  the  country  will  take  me  all  day  at  least.  I 
must  see  my  bankers  if  nobody  else.  I  shan't  take  leave  of 
anybody,  that  would  arouse  suspicion.  I  will  be  at  the  corner 
of  your  street  with  a  cab  at  nine,  and  we'll  catch  the  ten  o'clock 
express  from  Euston.  If  we  missed  that,  we  should  have  to 
wait  till  midnight.  It  will  be  dark ;  no  one  is  likely  to  notice 
me.  I  will  get  a  dressing-case  for  you  and  anything  else  I  can 
think  of  and  add  it  to  my  luggage." 

"  Very  well,"  she  said  simply. 

They  did  not  kiss  ;  she  gave  him  her  hand,  and,  with  a  sudden 
inspiration,  he  slipped  the  ring  he  had  brought  the  day  before 
on  her  finger.  The  tears  came  into  her  eyes  as  she  saw  what 
he  had  done.  They  looked  at  each  other  through  a  mist,  feel- 
ing bound  beyond  human  intervention. 

"Good-bye,"  she  faltered. 

"Good-bye,"  he  said.     "At  nine." 

"  At  nine,"  she  breathed.  And  hurried  off  without  looking 
behind. 

It  was  a  hard  day,  the  minutes  crawling  reluctantly  into  the 
hours,  the  hours  dragging  themselves  wearily  on  towards  the 
night.  It  was  typical  April  weather  —  squalls  and  sunshine  in 
capricious  succession.  Wlien  it  drew  towards  dusk  she  put  on 
her  best  clothes  for  the  Festival,  stuffing  a  few  precious  memen- 
toes into  her  pockets  and  wearing  her  father's  portrait  next  to 
her  lover's  at  her  breast.  She  hung  a  travelling  cloak  and  a  hat 
on  a  peg  near  the  hall-door  ready  to  hand  as  she  left  the  house. 
Of  little  use  was  she  in  the  kitchen  that  day,  but  her  mother  was 
tender  to  her  as  knowing  her  sorrow.  Time  after  time  Hannah 
ascended  to  her  bedroom  to  take  a  last  look  at  the  things  she 
had  grown  so  tired  of — the  little  iron  bed,  the  wardrobe,  the 
framed  lithographs,  the  jug  and  basin  with  their  floral  designs. 
All  things  seemed  strangely  dear  now  she  was  seeing  them  for 
the  last  time.  Hannah  turned  over  everything  —  even  the  little 
curling  iron,  and  the  cardboard  box  full  of  tags  and  rags  of  rib- 
bon and  chiffon  and  lace  and  crushed  artificial  flowers,  and  the 


308  CHILDREN  OF  THE    GHETTO. 

fans  with  broken  sticks  and  the  stays  with  broken  ribs,  and  the 
petticoats  with  dingy  frills  and  the  twelve-button  ball  gloves 
with  dirty  fingers,  and  the  soiled  pink  wraps.  Some  of  her 
books,  especially  her  school-prizes,  she  would  have  liked  to  take 
with  her — but  that  could  not  be.  She  went  over  the  rest  of  the 
house,  too,  from  top  to  bottom.  It  weakened  her  but  she  could 
not  conquer  the  impulse  of  farewell.  Finally  she  wrote  a  letter 
to  her  parents  and  hid  it  under  her  looking-glass,  knowing  they 
would  search  her  room  for  traces  of  her.  She  looked  curiously 
at  herself  as  she  did  so ;  the  color  had  not  returned  to  her 
cheeks.  She  knew  she  was  pretty  and  always  strove  to  look 
nice  for  the  mere  pleasure  of  the  thing.  All  her  instincts  were 
aesthetic.  Now  she  had  the  air  of  a  saint  wrought  up  to  spiritual 
exaltation.  She  was  almost  frightened  by  the  vision.  She  had 
seen  her  face  frowning,  weeping,  overcast  with  gloom,  never 
with  an  expression  so  fateful.  It  seemed  as  if  her  resolution 
was  writ  large  upon  every  feature  for  all  to  read. 

In  the  evening  she  accompanied  her  father  to  Shool.  She  did 
not  often  go  in  the  evening,  and  the  thought  of  going  only  sud- 
denly occurred  to  her.  Heaven  alone  knew  if  she  would  ever 
enter  a  synagogue  again —  the  visit  would  be  part  of  her  system- 
atic farewell.  Reb  Shemuel  took  it  as  a  symptom  of  resignation 
to  the  will  of  God,  and  he  laid  his  hand  lightly  on  her  head  in 
silent  blessing,  his  eyes  uplifted  gratefully  to  Heaven.  Too  late 
Hannah  felt  the  misconception  and  was  remorseful.  For  the 
festival  occasion  Reb  Shemuel  elected  to  worship  at  the  Great 
Synagogue ;  Hannah,  seated  among  the  sparse  occupants  of  the 
Ladies'  Gallery  and  mechanically  fingering  a  Machsor,  looked 
down  for  the  last  time  on  the  crowded  auditorium  where  the 
men  sat  in  high  hats  and  holiday  garments.  Tall  wax-candles 
twinkled  everywhere,  in  great  gilt  chandeliers  depending  from 
the  ceiling,  in  sconces  stuck  about  the  window  ledges,  in  cande- 
labra branching  from  the  walls.  There  was  an  air  of  holy  joy 
about  the  solemn  old  structure  with  its  massive  pillars,  its  small 
side-windows,  high  ornate  roof,  and  skylights,  and  its  gilt-lettered 
tablets  to  the  memory  of  pious  donors. 

The   congregation  gave  the  responses  wdth  joyous   unction. 


SEDER  NIGHT.  309 

Some  of  the  worshippers  tempered  their  devotion  by  petty  gos- 
sip and  the  beadle  marshalled  the  men  in  low  hats  within  the 
iron  railings,  sonorously  sounding  his  automatic  aniens.  But 
to-night  Hannah  had  no  eye  for  the  Jiumors  that  were  wont  to 
awaken  her  scornful  amusement  —  a  real  emotion  possessed 
her,  the  same  emotion  of  farewell  which  she  had  experienced  in 
her  own  bedroom.  Her  eyes  wandered  towards  the  Ark,  sur- 
mounted by  the  stone  tablets  of  the  Decalogue,  and  the  sad  dark 
orbs  filled  with  the  brooding  light  of  childish  reminiscence. 
Once  when  she  was  a  little  girl  her  father  told  her  that  on  Pass- 
over night  an  angel  sometimes  came  out  of  the  doors  of  the  Ark 
from  among  the  scrolls  of  the  Law.  For  years  she  looked  out 
for  that  angel,  keeping  her  eyes  patiently  fixed  on  the  curtain. 
At  last  she  gave  him  up,  concluding  her  vision  was  insufficiently 
purified  or  that  he  was  exhibiting  at  other  synagogues.  To-night 
her  childish  fancy  recurred  to  her  —  she  found  herself  invol- 
untarily looking  towards  the  Ark  and  half-expectant  of  the 
angel. 

She  had  not  thought  of  the  Seder  service  she  would  have  to 
partially  sit  through,  when  she  made  her  appointment  with  David 
in  the  morning,  but  when  during  the  day  it  occurred  to  her,  a 
cynical  smile  traversed  her  lips.  How  apposite  it  was!  To-night 
would  mark  her  exodus  from  slavery.  Like  her  ancestors  leav- 
ing Egypt,  she,  too,  would  partake  of  a  meal  in  haste,  staff  in 
hand  ready  for  the  journey.  With  what  stout  heart  would  she 
set  forth,  she,  too,  towards  the  promised  land!  Thus  had  she 
thought  some  hours  since,  but  her  mood  was  changed  now.  The 
nearer  the  Seder  approached,  the  more  she  shrank  from  the 
family  ceremonial.  A  panic  terror  almost  seized  her  now,  in 
the  synagogue,  when  the  picture  of  the  domestic  interior  flashed 
again  before  her  mental  vision  —  she  felt  like  flying  into  the 
street,  on  towards  her  lover  without  ever  looking  behind.  Oh, 
why  could  David  not  have  fixed  the  hour  earlier,  so  as  to  spare 
her  an  ordeal  so  trying  to  the  nerves?  The  black-stoled  choir 
was  singing  sweetly,  Hannah  banished  her  foolish  flutter  of  alarm 
by  joining  in  quietly,  for  congregational  singing  was  regarded 
rather  as  an  intrusion  on  the  privileges  of  the  choir  and  calcu- 


310  CHILDREN  OF  THE    GHETTO. 

lated  to  put  them  out  in  their  elaborate  four-part  fugues  unaided 
by  an  organ. 

"  With  everlasting  love  hast  Thou  loved  the  house  of  Israel, 
Thy  people,'^  she  sang :  '•  a  Law  and  commandments,  statutes 
and  judgments  hast  thou  taught  us.  Therefore,  O  Lord  our 
God,  when  we  lie  dow^n  and  when  we  rise  up  we  will  meditate  on 
Thy  statutes :  yea,  we  will  rejoice  in  the  words  of  Thy  Law  and 
in  Thy  commandments  for  ever,  for  they  are  our  life  and  the 
length  of  our  days,  and  will  meditate  on  them  day  and  night. 
And  mayest  Thou  never  take  away  Thy  love  from  us.  Blessed 
art  Thou,  O  Lord,  who  lovest  Thy  people  Israel." 

Hannah  scanned  the  English  version  of  the  Hebrew  in  her 
Machzor  as  she  sang.  Though  she  could  translate  every  word, 
the  meaning  of  what  she  sang  was  never  completely  conceived 
by  her  consciousness.  The  power  of  song  over  the  soul  depends 
but  little  on  the  words.  Now  the  words  seem  fateful,  pregnant 
with  special  message.  Her  eyes  were  misty  when  the  fugues 
were  over.  Again  she  looked  towards  the  Ark  with  its  beauti- 
fully  embroidered  curtain,  behind  which  were  the  precious  scrolls 
with  their  silken  swathes  and  their  golden  bells  and  shields  and 
pomegranates.  Ah,  if  the  angel  would  come  out  now!  If  only 
the  dazzling  vision  gleamed  for  a  moment  on  the  white  steps. 
Oh,  why  did  he  not  come  and  save  her? 

Save  her?  From  what?  She  asked  herself  the  question 
fiercely,  in  defiance  of  the  still,  small  voice.  What  wrong  had 
she  ever  done  that  she  so  young  and  gentle  should  be  forced  to 
make  so  cioiel  a  choice  between  the  old  and  the  new?  This 
was  the  synagogue  she  should  have  been  married  in ;  stepping 
gloriously  and  honorably  under  the  canopy,  amid  the  pleas- 
ant excitement  of  a  congratulatory  company.  And  now  she 
.was  being  driven  to  exile  and  the  chillness  of  secret  nuptials. 
No,  no ;  she  did  not  want  to  be  saved  in  the  sense  of  being 
kept  in  the  fold ;  it  was  the  creed  that  was  culpable,  not 
she. 

The  service  drew  to  an  end.  The  choir  sang  the  final  hymn, 
the  Chasaii  giving  the  last  verse  at  great  length  and  with  many 
musical  flourishes. 


SEDER  NIGHT.  311 

"  The  dead  will  God  quicken  in  the  abundance  of  His  loving 
kindness.     Blessed  for  evermore  be  His  glorious  name." 

There  was  a  clattering  of  reading-flaps  and  seat-lids  and  the 
congregation  poured  out,  amid  the  buzz  of  mutual  "  Good  Yom- 
tovs.''''  Hannah  rejoined  her  father,  the  sense  of  injury  and 
revolt  still  surging  in  her  breast.  In  the  fresh  starlit  air,  step- 
ping along  the  wet  gleaming  pavements,  she  shook  off  the  last 
influences  of  the  synagogue ;  all  her  thoughts  converged  on  the 
meeting  with  David,  on  the  wild  flight  northwards  while  good 
Jews  were  sleeping  off  the  supper  in  celebration  of  their  Redemp- 
tion :  her  blood  coursed  quickly  through  her  veins,  she  was  in  a 
fever  of  impatience  for  the  hour  to  come. 

And  thus  it  was  that  she  sat  at  the  Seder  table,  as  in  a  dream, 
with  images  of  desperate  adventure  flitting  in  her  brain.  The 
face  of  her  lover  floated  before  her  eyes,  close,  close  to  her  own 
as  it  should  have  been  to-night  had  there  been  justice  in  Heaven. 
Now  and  again  the  scene  about  her  flashed  in  upon  her  con- 
sciousness, piercing  her  to  the  heart.  When  Levi  asked  the 
introductory  question,  it  set  her  wondering  what  would  become 
of  him?  Would  manhood  bring  enfranchisement  to  him  as 
womanhood  was  doing  to  her?  What  sort  of  life  would  he  lead 
the  poor  Reb  and  his  wife?  The  omens  were  scarcely  auspi- 
cious ;  but  a  man's  charter  is  so  much  wider  than  a  woman's  ; 
and  Levi  might  do  much  without  paining  them  as  she  would 
pain  them.  Poor  father!  The  wiiite  hairs  w^ere  predominating 
in  his  beard,  she  had  never  noticed  before  how^  old  he  was  get- 
ting. And  mother  —  her  face  was  quite  wrinkled.  Ah,  well; 
we  must  all  grow  old.  What  a  curious  man  Melchitsedek  Pin- 
chas  was,  singing  so  heartily  the  wonderful  story.  Judaism 
certainly  produced  some  curious  types.  A  smile  crossed  her 
face  as  she  thought  of  herself  as  his  bride. 

At  supper  she  strove  to  eat  a  little,  knowing  she  would  need 
it.  In  bringing  some  plates  from  the  kitchen  she  looked  at  her 
hat  and  cloak,  carefully  hung  up  on  the  peg  in  the  hall  nearest 
the  street  door.  It  would  take  but  a  second  to  slip  them  on. 
She  nodded  her  head  towards  them,  as  who  should  say  "  Yes, 
we  shall  meet  again  very  soon.''     During  the  meal  she  found 


312  CHILDREN  OF  THE    GHETTO. 

herself  listening  to  the  poet's  monologues  delivered  in  his  high- 
pitched  creaking  voice. 

Melchitsedek  Pinchas  had  much  to  say  about  a  certain  actor- 
manager  who  had  spoiled  the  greatest  jargon-play  of  the  century 
and  a  certain  labor-leader  who,  out  of  the  funds  of  his  gulls,  had 
subsidized  the  audience  to  stay  away,  and  (though  here  the  Reb 
cut  him  short  for  Hannah's  sake)  a  certain  leading  lady,  one  of 
the  quartette  of  mistresses  of  a  certain  clergyman,  who  had  been 
beguiled  by  her  paramour  into  joining  the  great  English  con- 
spiracy to  hound  down  Melchitsedek  Pinchas,  —  all  of  whom  he 
would  shoot  presently  and  had  in  the  meantime  enshrined  like 
dead  flies  in  the  amber  of  immortal  acrostics.  The  wind  began 
to  shake  the  shutters  as  they  finished  supper  and  presently  the 
rain  began  to  patter  afresh  against  the  panes.  Reb  Shemuel 
distributed  the  pieces  of  AJikiDnaii  with  a  happy  sigh,  and,  loll- 
ing on  his  pillows  and  almost  forgetting  his  family  troubles  in 
the  sense  of  Israel's  blessedness,  began  to  chant  the  Grace  like 
the  saints  in  the  Psalm  who  sing  aloud  on  their  couches.  The 
little  Dutch  clock  on  the  mantelpiece  began  to  strike.  Hannah 
did  not  move.  Pale  and  trembling  she  sat  riveted  to  her  chair. 
One  —  two  —  three  —  four  —  five  —  six  —  seven  —  eight.  She 
counted  the  strokes,  as  if  to  count  them  was  the  only  means  of 
telling  the  hour,  as  if  her  eyes  had  not  been  following  the  hands 
creeping,  creeping.  She  had  a  mad  hope  the  striking  would 
cease  with  the  eight  and  there  would  be  still  time  to  think. 
Nine  I  She  waited,  her  ear  longing  for  the  tenth  stroke.  If  it 
were  only  ten  o'clock,  it  would  be  too  late.  The  danger  would 
be  over.  She  sat,  mechanically  watching  the  hands.  They 
crept  on.  It  was  five  minutes  past  the  hour.  She  felt  sure  that 
David  was  already  at  the  corner  of  the  street,  getting  wet  and  a 
little  impatient.  She  half  rose  from  her  chair.  It  was  not  a  nice 
night  for  an  elopement.  She  sank  back  into  her  seat.  Perliaps 
they  had  best  wait  till  to-morrow  night.  She  would  go  and  tell 
David  so.  But  then  he  would  not  mind  the  weather;  once  they 
had  met  he  would  bundle  her  into  the  cab  and  they  would  roll 
off,  leaving  the  old  world  irrevocably  behind.  She  sat  in  a 
paralysis  of  volition  ;  rigid  on  her  chair,  magnetized  by  the  warm 


SEDER  NIGHT.  313 

comfortable  room,  the  old  familiar  furniture,  the  Passover  table 
—  with  its  white  table-cloth  and  its  decanter  and  wine-glasses, 
the  faces  of  her  father  and  mother  eloquent  with  the  appeal  of  a 
thousand  memories.  The  clock  ticked  on  loudly,  fiercely,  like 
a  summoning  drum ;  the  rain  beat  an  impatient  tattoo  on  the 
window-panes,  the  wind  rattled  the  doors  and  casements.  "  Go 
forth,  go  forth,"  they  called,  "  go  forth  where  your  lover  waits 
you,  to  bear  you  oif  into  the  new  and  the  unknown."  And  the 
louder  they  called  the  louder  Reb  Shemuel  trolled  his  hilarious 
Grace :  May  He  who  i?iaketh  Peace  in  the  High  Heavens,  bestow 
Peace  upon  us  and  npoji  all  Israel  and  say  ye,  Aineti. 

The  hands  of  the  clock  crept  on.  It  was  half-past  nine. 
Hannah  sat  lethargic,  numb,  unable  to  think,  her  strung-up 
nerves  grown  flaccid,  her  eyes  full  of  bitter-sweet  tears,  her  soul 
floating  along  as  in  a  trance  on  the  waves  of  a  familiar  melody. 
Suddenly  she  became  aware  that  the  others  had  risen  and  that 
her  father  was  motioning  to  her.  Instinctively  she  understood  ; 
rose  automatically  and  went  to  the  door ;  then  a  great  shock  of 
returning  recollection  whelmed  her  soul.  She  stood  rooted  to 
the  floor.  Her  father  had  filled  Elijah's  goblet  with  wine  and  it 
was  her  annual  privilege  to  open  the  door  for  the  prophefs 
entry.  Intuitively  she  knew  that  David  was  pacing  madly  in 
front  of  the  house,  not  daring  to  make  known  his  presence,  and 
perhaps  cursing  her  cowardice.  A  chill  terror  seized  her.  She 
was  afraid  to  face  him  —  his  will  was  strong  and  mighty;  her 
fevered  imagination  figured  it  as  the  wash  of  a  great  ocean 
breaking  on  the  doorstep  threatening  to  sweep  her  olT  into  the 
roaring  whirlpool  of  doom.  She  threw  the  door  of  the  room 
wide  and  paused  as  if  her  duty  were  done. 

"  iVii,  Jiu,^^  muttered  Reb  Shemuel,  indicating  the  outer  door. 
It  was  so  near  that  he  always  had  that  opened,  too. 

Hannah  tottered  forwards  through  the  few  feet  of  hall.  The 
cloak  and  hat  on  the  peg  nodded  to  her  sardonically.  A  wild 
thrill  of  answering  defiance  shot  through  her:  she  stretched  out 
her  hands  towards  them.  "  Fly,  fly ;  it  is  your  last  chance," 
said  the  blood  throbbing  in  her  ears.  But  her  hand  dropped  to 
her  side  and  in  that  brief  instant  of  terrible  illumination,  Hannah 


314  CHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

saw  down  the  whole  long  vista  of  her  future  life,  stretching 
straight  and  unlovely  between  great  blank  walls,  on,  on  to  a 
solitary  grave  ;  knew  that  the  strength  had  been  denied  her  to 
diverge  to  the  right  or  left,  that  for  her  there  would  be  neither 
Exodus  nor  Redemption.  Strong  in  the  conviction  of  her  weak- 
ness she  noisily  threw  open  the  street  door.  The  face  of  David, 
sallow  and  ghastly,  loomed  upon  her  in  the  darkness.  Great 
drops  of  rain  fell  from  his  hat  and  ran  down  his  cheeks  like  tears. 
His  clothes  seemed  soaked  with  rain. 

"At  last!"  he  exclaimed  in  a  hoarse,  glad  whisper.  "What 
has  kept  you  ?  " 

''''  Bortich  Habol  (Welcome  art  thou  who  arrivest)  "  came  the 
voice  of  Reb  Shemuel  from  within,  greeting  the  prophet, 

"  Hush!  "  said  Hannah.     "  Listen  a  moment." 

The  sing-song  undulations  of  the  old  Rabbi's  voice  mingled 
harshly  with  the  wail  of  the  wind  :  "/*<?//;'  out  Thy  ivj'ath  oji  the 
heathen  who  acknowledge  Thee  7iot  and  npon  the  Kingdojns  which 
invoke  not  Thy  nanie^  for  they  have  devoured  Jacob  and  laid 
waste  his  Temple.  Pour  out  Thy  indignation  upon  them  and 
cause  Thy  fierce  anger  to  overtake  them.  Pursue  them  in  wrath 
and  destroy  theni  from  under  the  heavens  of  the  Lord.'''' 

"Quick,  Hannah!"  whispered  David.  "We  can't  wait  a 
moment  more.     Put  on  your  things.     We  shall  miss  the  train." 

A  sudden  inspiration  came  to  her.  For  answer  she  drew  his 
ring  out  of  her  pocket  and  slipped  it  into  his  hand. 

"  Good-bye ! "  she  murmured  in  a  strange  hollow  voice,  and 
slammed  the  street  door  in  his  face. 

"Hannah!" 

His  startled  cry  of  agony  and  despair  penetrated  the  wood- 
work, muffled  to  an  inarticulate  shriek.  He  rattled  the  door 
violently  in  unreasoning  frenzy. 

"Who's  that?     What's  that  noise?"  asked  the  Rebbitzin. 

"  Only  some  Christian  rough  shouting  in  the  street,"  answered 
Hannah. 

It  was  truer  than  she  knew. 

The  rain  fell  faster,  the  wind  grew  shriller,  but  the  Children  ol 


SEDER   NIGHT.  315 

the  Ghetto  basked  by  their  firesides  in  faith  and  hope  and  con- 
tentment. Hunted  from  shore  to  shore  through  the  ages,  they 
had  found  the  national  aspiration  —  Peace — in  a  country  where 
Passover  came  without  menace  of  blood.  In  the  garret  of 
Number  i  Royal  Street  little  Esther  Ansell  sat  brooding,  her 
heart  full  of  a  vague  tender  poetry  and  penetrated  by  the 
beauties  of  Judaism,  which,  please  God,  she  would  always  cling 
to ;  her  childish  vision  looking  forward  hopefully  to  the  larger 
life  that  the  years  would  bring. 


END   OF   BOOK   I. 


Book  II. 
THE  GRANDCHILDREN   OF   THE  GHETTO. 


CHAPTER   I. 

THE   CHRISTMAS   DINNER. 

Daintily  embroidered  napery,  beautiful  porcelain,  Queen 
Anne  silver,  exotic  flowers,  glittering  glass,  soft  rosy  light,  creamy 
expanses  of  shirt-front,  elegant  low-necked  dresses  —  all  the  con- 
ventional accompaniments  of  Occidental  gastronomy. 

It  was  not  a  large  party.  Mrs.  Henry  Goldsmith  professed  to 
collect  guests  on  artistic  principles  —  as  she  did  bric-a-brac  — 
and  with  an  eye  to  general  conversation.  The  elements  of  the 
social  saiad  were  sufficiently  incongruous  to-night,  yet  all  the 
ingredients  were  Jewish. 

For  the  history  of  the  Grandchildren  of  the  Ghetto,  which  is 
mainly  a  history  of  the  middle-classes,  is  mainly  a  history  of 
isolation.  "  The  Upper  Ten  "  is  a  literal  phrase  in  Judah,  whose 
aristocracy  just  about  suffices  for  a  synagogue  quorum.  Great 
majestic  luminaries,  each  with  its  satellites,  they  swim  serenely 
in  the  golden  heavens.  And  the  middle-classes  look  up  in  wor- 
ship and  the  lower-classes  in  supplication.  "The  Upper  Ten" 
have  no  spirit  of  exclusiveness ;  they  are  willing  to  entertain  roy- 
alty, rank  and  the  arts  with  a  catholic  hospitality  that  is  only  East- 
ern in  its  magnificence,  while  some  of  them  only  remain  Jews  for 
fear  of  being  considered  snobs  by  society.  But  the  middle-class 
Jew  has  been  more  jealous  of  his  caste,  and  for  caste  reasons. 
To  exchange  hospitalities  with  the  Christian  when  you  cannot 
eat  his  dinners  were  to  get  the  worse  of  the  bargain ;  to  invite 
his  sons  to  your  house  when  they  cannot  marry  your  daughters 
were  to  solicit  awkward  complications.  In  business,  in  civic 
affairs,  in  politics,  the  Jew  has  mixed  freely  with  his  fellow-citi- 
zens, but  indiscriminate  social  relations  only  become  possible 

319 


320  GRANDCHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

through  a  religious  decadence,  which  they  in  turn  accelerate.  A 
Christian  in  a  company  of  middle-class  Jews  is  like  a  lion  in  a  den 
of  Daniels.  They  show  him  deference  and  their  prophetic  side. 
Mrs.  Henry  Goldsmith  was  of  the  upper  middle-classes,  and 
her  husband  w^as  the  financial  representative  of  the  Kensington 
Synagogue  at  the  United  Council,  but  her  swan-like  neck  was 
still  bowed  beneath  the  yoke  of  North  London,  not  to  say  pro- 
vincial, Judaism.  So  to-night  there  were  none  of  those  external 
indications  of  Christmas  which  are  so  frequent  at  "  good  ''  Jew- 
ish houses  ;  no  plum-pudding,  snapdragon,  mistletoe,  not  even  a 
Christmas  tree.  For  Mrs.  Henry  Goldsmith  did  not  counte- 
nance these  coquettings  with  Christianity.  She  would  have  told 
you  that  the  incidence  of  her  dinner  on  Christmas  Eve  was 
merely  an  accident,  though  a  lucky  accident,  in  so  far  as  Christ- 
mas found  Jews  perforce  at  leisure  for  social  gatherings.  What 
she  was  celebrating  was  the  feast  of  Chanukah  —  of  the  re-dedi- 
cation of  the  Temple  after  the  pollutions  of  Antiochus  Epiph- 
anes  —  and  the  memory  of  the  national  hero,  Judas  Maccabaeus. 
Christmas  crackers  would  have  been  incompatible  with  the  Cha- 
nukah candles  which  the  housekeeper,  Mary  O^Reilly,  forced  her 
master  to  light,  and  would  have  shocked  that  devout  old  dame. 
For  Mary  O'Reilly,  as  good  a  soul  as  she  was  a  Catholic,  had 
lived  all  her  life  with  Jews,  assisting  while  yet  a  girl  in  the 
kitchen  of  Henry  Goldsmith's  father,  who  was  a  pattern  of 
ancient  piety  and  a  prop  of  the  Great  Synagogue.  When  the 
father  died,  Mary,  with  all  the  other  family  belongings,  passed 
into  the  hands  of  the  son,  who  came  up  to  London  from  a  pro- 
vincial town,  and  with  a  grateful  recollection  of  her  motherliness 
domiciled  her  in  his  own  establishment.  Mary  knew  all  the 
ritual  laws  and  ceremonies  far  better  than  her  new  mistress,  who 
although  a  native  of  the  provincial  town  in  which  Mr.  Henry 
Goldsmith  had  established  a  thriving  business,  had  received  her 
education  at  a  Brussels  boarding-school.  Mary  knew  exactly 
how  long  to  keep  the  meat  in  salt  and  the  heinousness  of  frying 
steaks  in  butter.  She  knew  that  the  fire  must  not  be  poked  on 
the  Sabbath,  nor  the  gas  lit  or  extinguished,  and  that  her  master 
must  not  smoke  till  three  stars  appeared  in  the  sky.     She  knew 


THE    CHRISTMAS  DINNER.  321 

when  the  family  must  fast,  and  when  and  how  it  must  feast.  She 
knew  all  the  Hebrew  and  jargon  expressions  which  her  employers 
studiously  boycotted,  and  she  was  the  only  member  of  the  house- 
hold who  used  them  habitually  in  her  intercourse  with  the  other 
members.  Too  late  the  Henry  Goldsmiths  awoke  to  the  con- 
sciousness of  her  tyranny  which  did  not  permit  them  to  be 
irreligious  even  in  private.  In  the  fierce  light  which  beats  upon 
a  provincial  town  with  only  one  synagogue,  they  had  been  com- 
pelled to  conform  outwardly  with  many  galling  restrictions,  and 
they  had  sub-consciously  looked  forward  to  emancipation  in  the 
mighty  metropolis.  But  Mary  had  such  implicit  faith  in  their 
piety,  and  was  so  zealous  in  the  practice  of  her  own  faith,  that 
they  had  not  the  courage  to  confess  that  they  scarcely  cared  a 
pin  about  a  good  deal  of  that  for  which  she  was  so  solicitous. 
They  hesitated  to  admit  that  they  did  not  respect  their  religion 
(or  what  she  thought  was  their  religion)  as  much  as  she  did 
hers.  It  would  have  equally  lowered  them  in  her  eyes  to  admit 
that  their  religion  was  not  so  good  as  hers,  besides  being  disre- 
spectful to  the  cherished  memory  of  her  ancient  master.  At  first 
they  had  deferred  to  Mary's  Jewish  prejudices  out  of  good  nature 
and  carelessness,  but  every  day  strengthened  her  hold  upon 
them ;  every  act  of  obedience  to  the  ritual  law  was  a  tacit  ac- 
knowledgment of  its  sanctity,  which  made  it  more  and  more  diffi- 
cult to  disavow  its  obligation.  The  dread  of  shocking  Mary 
came  to  dominate  their  lives,  and  the  fashionable  house  near 
Kensington  Gardens  was  still  a  veritable  centre  of  true  Jewish 
orthodoxy,  with  little  or  nothing  to  make  old  Aaron  Goldsmith 
turn  in  his  grave.  It  is  probable,  though,  that  Mrs.  Henry  Gold- 
smith would  have  kept  a  kosher  table,  even  if  Mary  had  never 
been  born.  Many  of  their  acquaintances  and  relatives  were  of 
an  orthodox  turn.  A  kosher  dinner  could  be  eaten  even  by  the 
heterodox ;  whereas  a  tripha  dinner  choked  off  the  orthodox. 
Thus  it  came  about  that  even  the  Rabbinate  might  safely  stoke 
its  spiritual  fires  at  Mrs.  Henry  Goldsmith's. 

Hence,  too,  the  prevalent  craving  for  a  certain  author's  blood 
could  not  be  gratified  at  Mrs.  Henry  Goldsmith's  Chanukah 
dinner.     Besides,  nobody  knew  where  to  lay  hands  upon  Edward 

Y 


322  GRANDCHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

Armitage,  the  author  in  question,  whose  opprobrious  production, 
Mordecai  Josephs.,  had  scandahzed  West- End  Judaism. 

"Why  didn't  he  describe  our  circles?"  asked  the  hostess,  an 
angry  fire  in  her  beautiful  eyes.  "It  would  have,  at  least,  cor- 
rected the  picture.  As  it  is,  the  public  will  fancy  that  we  are  all 
daubed  with  the  same  brush  ;  that  we  have  no  thought  in  life 
beyond  dress,  money,  and  solo  whist.'' 

"  He  probably  painted  the  life  he  knew,"  said  Sidney  Graham, 
in  defence. 

"Then  1  am  sorry  for  him,"  retorted  Mrs.  Goldsmith.  "  It's 
a  great  pity  he  had  such  detestable  acquaintances.  Of  course, 
he  has  cut  himself  off  from  the  possibility  of  any  better  now." 

The  wavering  flush  on  her  lovely  face  darkened  with  disinter- 
ested indignation,  and  her  beautiful  bosom  heaved  with  judicial 
grief. 

"  I  should  hope  so,"  put  in  Miss  Cissy  Levine,  sharply.  She 
was  a  pale,  bent  woman,  with  spectacles,  who  believed  in  the 
mission  of  Israel,  and  wrote  domestic  novels  to  prove  that  she 
had  no  sense  of  humor.  "  No  one  has  a  right  to  foul  his  own 
nest.  Are  there  not  plenty  of  subjects  for  the  Jew's  pen  with- 
out his  attacking  his  own  people?  The  calumniator  of  his  race 
should  be  ostracized  from  decent  society." 

"As  according  to  him  there  is  none,"  laughed  Graham,"! 
cannot  see  where  the  punishment  comes  in." 

"Oh,  he  may  say  so  in  that  book,"  said  Mrs.  Montagu  Sam- 
uels, an  amiable,  loose-thinking  lady  of  florid  complexion,  who 
dabbled  exasperatingly  in  her  husband's  philanthropic  con- 
cerns from  the  vain  idea  that  the  wife  of  a  committee-man  is  a 
committee-woman.     "But  he  knows  better." 

"Yes,  indeed,"  said  Mr.  Montagu  Samuels.  '*Thc  rascal  has 
only  written  this  to  make  money.  He  knows  it\s  all  exaggera- 
tion and  distortion  ;  but  anything  spicy  pays  now-a-days." 

"As  a  West  Indian  merchant  he  ought  to  know,"  murmured 
Sidney  Graham  to  his  charming  cousin,  Adelaide  Leon.  The 
girl's  soft  eyes  twinkled,  as  she  surveyed  the  serious  little  city 
magnate  with  his  placid  spouse.  Montagu  Samuels  was  narrow- 
minded  and  narrow-chested,  and  managed  to  be  pompous  on  a 


THE    CHRISTMAS  DINNER.  323 

meagre  allowance  of  body.  He  was  earnest  and  charitable  (ex- 
cept in  religious  wrangles,  when  he  was  earnest  and  uncharitable), 
and  knew  himself  a  pillar  of  the  community,  an  exemplar  to  the 
drones  and  sluggards  who  shirked  their  share  of  public  burdens 
and  were  callous  to  the  dazzlement  of  communal  honors. 

"Of  course  it  w^as  written  for  money,  Monty,"  his  brother, 
Percy  Saville,  the  stockbroker,  reminded  him.  "What  else  do 
authors  write  for?     It's  the  way  they  earn  their  living." 

Strangers  found  difficulty  in  understanding  the  fraternal  rela- 
tion of  Percy  Saville  and  Montagu  Samuels;  and  did  not  readily 
grasp  that  Percy  Saville  was  an  Anglican  version  of  Pizer  Sam- 
uels, more  in  tune  with  the  handsome  well-dressed  personality 
it  denoted.  Montagu  had  stuck  loyally  to  his  colors,  but  Pizer 
had  drooped  under  the  burden  of  carrying  his  patronymic 
through  the  theatrical  and  artistic  circles  he  favored  after 
business  hours.     Of  such  is  the  brotherhood  of  Israel. 

"  The  whole  book's  written  with  gall,"  went  on  Percy  Saville, 
emphatically.  "  I  suppose  the  man  couldn't  get  into  good  Jew- 
ish houses,  and  he's  revenged  himself  by  slandering  them." 

"  Then  he  ought  to  have  got  into  good  Jewish  houses,"  said 
Sidney.  "  The  man  has  talent,  nobody  can  deny  that,  and  if  he 
couldn't  get  into  good  Jewish  society  because  he  didn't  have 
money  enough,  isn't  that  proof  enough  his  picture  is  true  ?  " 

"  I  don't  deny  that  there  are  people  among  us  who  make 
money  the  one  open  sesame  to  their  houses,"  said  Mrs.  Henry 
Goldsmith,  magnanimously. 

'-'■  Deny  it,  indeed?  Money  is  the  open  sesame  to  everything," 
rejoined  Sidney  Graham,  delightedly  scenting  an  opening  for  a 
screed.  He  liked  to  talk  bomb-shells,  and  did  not  often  get  pil- 
lars of  the  community  to  shatter.  "  Money  manages  the  schools 
and  the  charities,  and  the  synagogues,  and  indirectly  controls 
the  press.  A  small  body  of  persons  —  always  the  same — sits  on 
all  councils,  on  all  boards!    Why?    Because  they  pay  the  piper." 

"Well,  sir,  and  is  not  that  a  good  reason?  "  asked  Montagu 
Samuels.  "  The  community  is  to  be  congratulated  on  having  a 
few  public-spirited  men  left  in  days  when  there  are  wealthy  Ger- 
man Jews  in  our  midst  who  not  only  disavow  Judaism,  but  refuse 


324  GRANDCHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

to  support  its  institutions.  But,  Mr.  Graham,  I  would  join  issue 
with  you.  The  men  you  alhicle  to  are  elected  not  because  they 
are  rich,  but  because  they  are  good  men  of  business  and  most 
of  the  work  to  be  done  is  financial." 

"  Exactly,"  said  Sidney  Graham,  in  sinister  agreement.  "  I 
have  always  maintained  that  the  United  Synagogue  could  be 
run  as  a  joint-stock  company  for  the  sake  of  a  dividend,  and 
that  there  wouldn't  be  an  atom  of  difference  in  the  discussions 
if  the  councillors  were  directors.  I  do  believe  the  pillars  of  the 
community  figure  the  Millenium  as  a  time  when  every  Jew  shall 
have  enough  to  eat,  a  place  to  worship  in,  and  a  place  to  be 
buried  in.  Their  State  Church  is  simply  a  financial  system,  to 
which  the  doctrines  of  Judaism  happen  to  be  tacked  on.  How 
many  of  the  councillors  believe  in  their  Established  Religion? 
Why,  the  very  beadles  of  their  synagogues  are  prone  to  surrep- 
titious shrimps  and  unobtrusive  oysters!  Then  take  that  institu- 
tion for  supplying  kosher  meat.  I  am  sure  there  are  lots  of  its  Com- 
mittee who  never  inquire  into  the  necrologies  of  their  own  chops 
and  steaks,  and  who  regard  kitchen  Judaism  as  obsolete.  But,  all 
the  same,  they  look  after  the  finances  with  almost  fanatical  zeal. 
Finance  fascinates  them.  Long  after  Judaism  has  ceased  to 
exist,  excellent  gentlemen  will  be  found  regulating  its  finances." 

There  was  that  smile  on  the  faces  of  the  graver  members  of 
the  party  which  arises  from  reluctance  to  take  a  dangerous 
speaker  seriously. 

Sidney  Graham  was  one  of  those  favorites  of  society  who  are 
allowed  Touchstone's  license.  He  had  just  as  little  wish  to 
reform,  and  just  as  much  wish  to  abuse  society  as  society  has 
to  be  reformed  and  abused.  He  was  a  dark,  bright-eyed  young 
artist  with  a  silky  moustache.  He  had  lived  much  in  Paris, 
where  he  studied  impressionism  and  perfected  his  natural  talent 
for  causerie  and  his  inborn  preference  for  the  hedonistic  view  of 
life.  Fortunately  he  had  plenty  of  money,  for  he  was  a  cousin 
of  Raphael  Leon  on  the  mother's  side,  and  the  remotest  twigs  of 
the  Leon  genealogical  tree  bear  apples  of  gold.  His  real  name 
was  Abrahams,  which  is  a  shade  too  Semitic.  Sidney  was 
the   black    sheep    of    the    family ;    good-natured    to    the   core 


THE    CHRISTMAS  DINNER.  325 

and  artistic  to  the  finger-tips,  he  was  an  avowed  infidel 
in  a  world  where  avowal  is  the  unpardonable  sin.  He  did 
not  even  pretend  to  fast  on  the  Day  of  Atonement.  Still 
Sidney  Graham  was  a  good  deal  talked  of  in  artistic  circles,  his 
name  was  often  in  the  newspapers,  and  so  more  orthodox  people 
than  Mrs.  Henry  Goldsmith  were  not  averse  from  having  him  at 
their  table,  though  they  would  have  shrunk  from  being  seen  at 
his.  Even  cousin  Addie,  who  had  a  charming  religious  cast  of 
mind,  liked  to  be  with  him,  though  she  ascribed  this  to  family 
piety.  For  there  is  a  wonderful  solidarity  about  many  Jewish 
families,  the  richer  members  of  which  assemble  loyally  at  one 
another's  births,  marriages,  funerals,  and  card-parties,  often  to 
the  entire  exclusion  of  outsiders.  An  ordinary  well-regulated 
family  (so  prolific  is  the  stream  of  life),  will  include  in  its  bosom 
ample  elements  for  every  occasion. 

'^  Really,  Mr.  Graham,  I  think  you  are  wrong  about  the  kosher 
meat,''  said  Mr.  Henry  Goldsmith.  '^  Our  statistics  show  no 
falling-off  in  the  number  of  bullocks  killed,  while  there  is  a  rise  of 
two  per  cent,  in  the  sheep  slaughtered.  No,  Judaism  is  in  a  far 
more  healthy  condition  than  pessimists  imagine.  So  far  from 
sacrificing  our  ancient  faith  we  are  learning  to  see  how  tuber- 
culosis lurks  in  the  lungs  of  unexamined  carcasses  and  is  com- 
municated to  the  consumer.  As  for  the  members  of  the 
Shcchitah  Board  not  eating  kosher^  look  at  me.'' 

The  only  person  who  looked  at  the  host  was  the  hostess. 
Her  look  was  one  of  approval.  It  could  not  be  of  aesthetic  ap- 
proval, like  the  look  Percy  SavUle  devoted  to  herself,  for  her  hus- 
band was  a  cadaverous  little  man  with  prominent  ears  and  teeth. 
''And  if  Mr.  Graham  should  ever  join  us  on  the  Council  of 
the  United  Synagogue,"  added  Montagu  Samuels,  addressing 
the  table  generally,  ''  he  will  discover  that  there  is  no  communal 
problem  with  which  we  do  not  loyally  grapple." 

"No,  thank  you,"  said  Sidney,  with  a  shudder.  "When  I 
visit  Raphael,  I  sometimes  pick  up  a  Jewish  paper  and  amuse 
myself  by  reading  the  debates  of  your  public  bodies.  I  under- 
stand most  of  your  verbiage  is  edited  away"  He  looked 
Montagu  Samuels  full  in  the  face  with  audacious  naivete.     "  But 


326  GRANDCHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

there  is  enough  left  to  show  that  our  monotonous  group  of  pub- 
lic men  consists  of  narrow-minded  mediocrities.  The  chief 
public  work  they  appear  to  do  outside  finance  is,  when  public 
exams,  fall  on  Sabbaths  or  holidays,  getting  special  dates  for 
Jewish  candidates  to  whom  these  examinations  are  the  avenues 
to  atheism.  They  never  see  the  joke.  How  can  they?  Why, 
they  take  even  themselves  seriously," 

"  Oh,  come  I  "  said  Miss  Cissy  Levine  indignantly.  "  You  often 
see  '  laughter'  in  the  reports." 

"  That  must  mean  the  speaker  was  laughing,"  explained  Sid- 
ney, ''for  you  never  see  anything  to  make  the  audience  laugh. 
I  appeal  to  Mr.  Montagu  Samuels." 

"  It  is  useless  discussing  a  subject  with  a  man  who  admittedly 
speaks  without  knowledge,"  replied  that  gentleman  with  dignity. 

"  Well,  how  do  you  expect  me  to  get  the  knowledge?  "  grum- 
bled Sidney.  "  You  exclude  the  public  from  your  gatherings.  I 
suppose  to  prevent  their  rubbing  shoulders  with  the  swells,  the 
privilege  of  being  snubbed  by  whom  is  the  reward  of  public  ser- 
vice. Wonderfully  practical  idea  that —  to  utilize  snobbery  as  a 
communal  force.  The  United  Synagogue  is  founded  on  it. 
Your  community  coheres  through  it." 

'•  There  you  are  scarcely  fair,"  said  the  hostess  with  a  charm- 
ing smile  of  reproof.  "  Of  course  there  are  snobs  amongst  us, 
but  is  it  not  the  same  in  all  sects?" 

"  Emphatically  not,"  said  Sidney.  ''  If  one  of  our  swells  sticks 
to  a  shred  of  Judaism,  people  seem  to  think  the  God  of  Judah 
should  be  thankful,  and  if  he  goes  to  synagogue  once  or  twice  a 
year,  it  is  regarded  as  a  particular  condescension  to  the  Creator." 

"  The  mental  attitude  you  caricature  is  not  so  snobbish  as  it 
seems,"  said  Raphael  Leon,  breaking  into  the  conversation  for 
the  first  time.  ''  The  temptations  to  the  wealthy  and  the  honored 
to  desert  their  struggling  brethren  are  manifold,  and  sad  experi- 
ence has  made  our  race  accustomed  to  the  loss  of  its  brightest 
sons." 

"  Thanks  for  the  compliment,  fair  coz,"  said  Sidney,  not  with- 
out a  complacent  cynical  pleasure  in  the  knowledge  that  Raphael 
spoke  truly,  that  he  owed  his  own  immunity  from  the  obligations 


THE    CHRISTMAS  DINNER.  327 

of  the  faith  to  his  artistic  success,  and  that  the  outside  world 
was  disposed  to  accord  him  a  larger  charter  of  morality  on  the 
same  grounds.  '•  But  if  you  can  only  deny  nasty  facts  by  account- 
ing fo'^r  them,  I  dare  say  Mr.  Armitage's  book  will  afford  you 
ample  opportunities  for  explanation.  Or  have  Jews  the  brazen- 
ness  to  assert  it  is  all  invention? '' 

"  No,  no  one  would  do  that,''  said  Percy  Saville,  who  had  just 
done  it'.  "  Certainly  there  is  a  good  deal  of  truth  in  the  sketch 
of  the  ostentatious,  over-dressed  Johnsons  who,  as  everybody 
knows,  are  meant  for  the  Jonases." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Mrs.  Henry  Goldsmith.  ''  And  it  is  quite  evi- 
dent that  the  stockbroker  who  drops  half  his  h's  and  all  his  poor 
acquaintances  and  believes  in  one  Lord,  is  no  other  than  Joel 
Friedman." 

^'  And  the  house  where  people  drive  up  in  broughams  for  sup- 
per and  solo  whist  after  the  theatre  is  the  Davises'  in  Maida 
Vale,"  said  Miss  Cissy  Levine. 

"Yes,  the  book's  true  enough,"  began  Mrs.  Montagu  Samuels. 
She  stopped  suddenly,  catching  her  husband's  eye,  and  the  color 
heightened  on  her  florid  cheek.  "  What  I  say  is,"  she  concluded 
awkwardly,  "  he  ought  to  have  come  among  us,  and  shown  the 
world  a  picture  of  the  cultured  Jews." 

^-  Quite  so,  quite  so,"  said  the  hostess.  Then  turning  to  the 
tall  thoughtful-looking  young  man  who  had  hitherto  contributed 
but  one  sentence  to  the  conversation,  she  said,  half  in  sly  malice, 
half  to  draw  him  out:  "Now  you,  Mr.  Leon,  whose  culture  is 
certified  by  our  leading  university,  what  do  you  think  of  this 
latest  portrait  of  the  Jew?" 

"  I  don't  know,  I  haven't  read  it!"  replied  Raphael  apologeti- 
cally. 

"  No  more  have  I,"  murmured  the  table  generally. 

"  I  wouldn't  touch  it  with  a  pitchfork,"  said  Miss  Cissy  Levine. 

"  I  think  it's  a  shame  they  circulate  it  at  the  libraries,"  said 

Mrs.  Montagu  Samuels.     "I  just  glanced  over  it  at  Mrs.  Hugh 

Marston's  house.     It's  vile.     There  are  actually  jargon  words  in 

it.     Such  vulgarity!" 

"Shameful!"   murmured   Percy   Saville;    "Mr.    Lazarus   was 


328  GRANDCHILDREN   OF   THE    GHETTO. 

telling  me  about  it.  It's  plain  treachery  and  disloyalty,  this 
putting  of  weapons  into  the  hands  of  our  enemies.  Of  course 
we  have  our  faults,  but  we  should  be  told  of  them  privately  or 
from  the  pulpit.'' 

"  That  would  be  just  as  efficacious,"  said  Sidney  admiringly. 

"  More  efficacious,"  said  Percy  Saville,  unsuspiciously.  "  A 
preacher  speaks  with  authority,  but  this  penny-a-liner," 

"With  truth?"  queried  Sidney. 

Saville  stopped,  disgusted,  and  the  hostess  answered  Sidney 
half-coaxingly. 

"  Oh,  I  am  sure  you  can't  think  that.  The  book  is  so  one- 
sided. Not  a  word  about  our  generosity,  our  hospitality,  our 
domesticity,  the  thousand-and-one  good  traits  all  the  world 
allows  us." 

'•  Of  course  not ;  since  all  the  world  allows  them,  it  was 
unnecessary,"  said  Sidney. 

"  I  wonder  the  Chief  Rabbi  doesn't  stop  it,"  said  Mrs.  Montagu 
Samuels. 

"My  dear,  how  can  he?"  inquired  her  husband  "He  has  no 
control  over  the  publishing  trade." 

"  He  ought  to  talk  to  the  man,"  persisted  Mrs.  Samuels. 

"  But  we  don't  even  know  who  he  is,"  said  Percy  Saville, 
"  probably  Edward  Armitage  is  only  a  nom-de-phune.  You'd 
be  surprised  to  learn  the  real  names  of  some  of  the  literary 
celebrities  I  meet  about." 

"Oh,  if  he's  a  Jew  you  may  be  sure  it  isn't  his  real  name," 
laughed  Sidney.  It  was  characteristic  of  him  that  he  never 
spared  a  shot  even  when  himself  hurt  by  the  kick  of  the  gun. 
Percy  colored  slightly,  unmollified  by  being  in  the  same  boat 
with  the  satirist. 

"  I  have  never  seen  the  name  in  the  subscription  lists,"  said 
the  hostess  with  ready  tact. 

"  There  is  an  Armitage  who  subscribes  two  guineas  a  year  to 
the  Board  of  Guardians,"  said  Mrs.  Montagu  Samuels.  "  But 
his  Christian  name  is  George." 

"  '  Christian'  name  is  distinctly  good  for  '  George,'  "  murmured 
Sidney. 


THE    CHRISTMAS  DINNER.  329 

"  There  was  an  Armitage  who  sent  a  cheque  to  the  Russian 
Fund,"  said  Mr.  Henry  Goldsmith,  "  but  that  can't  be  an  author 
—  it  was  quite  a  large  cheque ! " 

"  I  am  sure  I  have  seen  Armitage  among  the  Births,  Marriages 
and  Deaths,"  said  Miss  Cissy  Levnne. 

"  How  well-read  they  all  are  in  the  national  literature,"  Sidney 
murmured  to  Addie. 

Indeed  the  sectarian  advertisements  served  to  knit  the  race 
together,  counteracting  the  unravelling  induced  by  the  fashion- 
able dispersion  of  Israel  and  waxing  the  more  important  as  the 
other  links  —  the  old  traditional  jokes,  by-words,  ceremonies, 
card-games,  prejudices  and  tunes,  which  are  more  important  than 
laws  and  more  cementatory  than  ideals  —  were  disappearing  be- 
fore the  over-zealousness  of  a  parvenu  refinement  that  had  not 
yet  attained  to  self-confidence.  The  Anglo-Saxon  stolidity  of 
the  West-End  Synagogue  service,  on  week  days  entirely  given 
over  to  paid  praying-men,  was  a  typical  expression  of  the  uni- 
versal tendency  to  exchange  the  picturesque  primitiveness  of 
the  Orient  for  the  sobrieties  of  fashionable  civilization.  When 
Jeshurun  waxed  fat  he  did  not  always  kick,  but  he  yearned  to 
approximate  as  much  as  possible  to  John  Bull  without  merging 
in  him ;  to  sink  himself  and  yet  not  be  absorbed,  not  to  be  and 
yet  to  be.  The  attempt  to  realize  the  asymptote  in  human 
mathematics  was  not  quite  successful,  too  near  an  approach  to 
John  Bull  generally  assimilating  Jeshurun  away.  For  such  is 
the  nature  of  Jeshurun.  Enfranchise  him,  give  him  his  own 
way  and  you  make  a  new  man  of  him ;  persecute  him  and  he  is 
himself  again. 

"But  if  nobody  has  read  the  man's  book,"  Raphael  Leon 
ventured  to  interrupt  at  last,  "  is  it  quite  fair  to  assume  his  book 
isn't  fit  to  read?  " 

The  shy  dark  little  girl  he  had  taken  down  to  dinner  darted 
an  appreciative  glance  at  her  neighbor.  It  was  in  accordance 
with  Raphael's  usual  anxiety  to  give  the  devil  his  due,  that  he 
should  be  unwilling  to  condemn  even  the  writer  of  an  anti- 
Semitic  novel  unheard.  But  then  it  was  an  open  secret  in  the 
family  that  Raphael  was  mad.     They  did  their  best  to  hush  it 


330  GRANDCHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

up,  but  among  themselves  they  pitied  him  behind  his  back. 
Even  Sidney  considered  his  cousin  Raphael  pushed  a  dubious 
virtue  too  far  in  treating  people's  very  prejudices  with  the  defer- 
ence due  to  earnest  reasoned  opinions. 

"  But  we  know  enough  of  the  book  to  know  we  are  badly 
treated,"  protested  the  hostess. 

"We  have  always  been  badly  treated  in  literature,"  said 
Raphael.  "We  are  made  either  angels  or  devils.  On  the  one 
hand,  Lessing  and  George  Eliot,  on  the  other,  the  stock  dram- 
atist and  novelist  with  their  low-comedy  villain." 

"Oh,"  said  Mrs.  Goldsmith,  doubtfully,  for  she  could  not 
quite  think  Raphael  had  become  infected  by  his  cousin's  pro- 
pensity for  paradox.  "  Do  you  think  George  Eliot  and  Lessing 
didn't  understand  the  Jewish  character?" 

"  They  are  the  only  writers  who  have  ever  understood  it," 
affirmed  Miss  Cissy  Levine,  emphatically. 

A  little  scornful  smile  played  for  a  second  about  the  mouth  of 
the  dark  little  girl. 

"  Stop  a  moment,"  said  Sidney.  "  I've  been  so  busy  doing 
justice  to  this  delicious  asparagus,  that  I  have  allowed  Raphael 
to  imagine  nobody  here  has  read  Mordecai  Josephs.  I  have, 
and  I  say  there  is  more  actuality  in  it  than  in  Daiiiel  Dero)ida 
and  Nathan  der  Weise  put  together.  It  is  a  cmde  production, 
all  the  same ;  the  writer's  artistic  gift  seems  handicapped  by  a 
dead-weight  of  moral  platitudes  and  highfalutin,  and  even  mysti- 
cism. He  not  only  presents  his  characters  but  moralizes  over 
them — actually  cares  whether  they  are  good  or  bad,  and  has 
yearnings  after  the  indefinable  —  it  is  all  very  young.  Instead  of 
being  satisfied  that  Judaea  gives  him  characters  that  are  interest- 
ing, he  actually  laments  their  lack  of  culture.  Still,  what  he  has 
done  is  good  enough  to  make  one  hope  his  artistic  instinct  will 
shake  oiThis  moral." 

"Oh,  Sidney,  what  are  you  saying?"  murmured  Addie. 

"  It's  all  right,  little  girl.     You  don't  understand  Greek." 

"It's  not  Greek,"  put  in  Raphael.  "In  Greek  art,  beauty  of 
soul  and  beauty  of  form  are  one.  It's  French  you  are  talking, 
though  the  ignorant  ateliers  where  you  picked  it  up  flatter 
themselves  it's  Greek." 


THE    CHRISTMAS  DINNER.  331 

"  It's  Greek  to  Addie,  anyhow/'  laughed  Sidney.  "  But  that's 
what  makes  the  anti-Semitic  chapters  so  unsatisfactory." 

"•  We  all  felt  their  unsatisfactoriness,  if  we  could  not  analyze  it 
so  cleverly,"  said  the  hostess. 

"We  all  felt  it,"  said  Mrs.  Montagu  Samuels. 

"  Yes,  that's  it,"  said  Sidney,  blandly.  "  I  could  have  for- 
given the  rose-color  of  the  picture  if  it  had  been  more  artistically 
painted." 

"Rose-color!"  gasped  Mrs.  Henry  Goldsmith,  " rose-color, 
indeed!"  Not  even  Sidney's  authority  could  persuade  the  table 
into  that. 

Poor  rich  Jews!  The  upper  middle-classes  had  every  excuse 
for  being  angry.  They  knew  they  were  excellent  persons,  well- 
educated  and  well-travelled,  interested  in  charities  (both  Jewish 
and  Christian),  people's  concerts,  district-visiting,  new  novels, 
magazines,  reading-circles,  operas,  symphonies,  politics,  volun- 
teer regiments,  Show-Sunday  and  Corporation  banquets  ;  that 
they  had  sons  at  Rugby  and  Oxford,  and  daughters  who  played 
and  painted  and  sang,  and  homes  that  were  bright  oases  of  opti- 
mism in  a  jaded  society  ;  that  they  were  good  Liberals  and 
Tories,  supplementing  their  duties  as  Englishmen  with  a  solici- 
tude for  the  best  interests  of  Judaism ;  that  they  left  no  stone 
unturned  to  emancipate  themselves  from  the  secular  thraldom  of 
prejudice ;  and  they  felt  it  very  hard  that  a  little  vulgar  section 
should  always  be  chosen  by  their  own  novelists,  and  their  efforts 
to  raise  the  tone  of  Jewish  society  passed  by. 

Sidney,  whose  conversation  always  had  the  air  of  aloofness 
from  the  race,  so  that  his  own  foibles  often  came  under  the  lash 
of  his  sarcasm,  proceeded  to  justify  his  assertion  of  the  rose- 
color  picture  in  Mordecai  Josephs.  He  denied  that  modern 
English  Jews  had  any  religion  whatever ;  claiming  that  their 
faith  consisted  of  forms  that  had  to  be  kept  up  in  public,  but 
which  they  were  too  shrewd  and  cute  to  believe  in  or  to  practise 
in  private,  though  every  one  might  believe  every  one  else  did ; 
that  they  looked  upon  due  payment  of  their  synagogue  bills  as 
discharging  all  their  obligations  to  Heaven  ;  that  the  preachers 
secretly  despised  the  old  formulas,  and  that  the  Rabbinate  de- 


332  GRANDCHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

dared  its  intention  of  dying  for  Judaism  only  as  a  way  of  living 
by  it ;  that  the  body  politic  was  dead  and  rotten  with  hypocrisy, 
though  the  augurs  said  it  was  alive  and  well.  He  admitted  that 
the  same  was  true  of  Christianity.  Raphael  reminded  him  that 
a  number  of  Jews  had  drifted  quite  openly  from  the  traditional 
teaching,  that  thousands  of  well-ordered  households  found  in- 
spiration and  spiritual,  satisfaction  in  every  form  of  it,  and  that 
hypocrisy  was  too  crude  a  word  for  the  complex  motives  of  those 
who  obeyed  it  without  inner  conviction. 

"  For  instance,"  said  he,  ''  a  gentleman  said  to  me  the  other 
day  —  I  was  much  touched  by  the  expression  — '  I  believe  with 
my  father's  heart.' " 

"  It  is  a  good  epigram,"  said  Sidney,  impressed.  "  But  what 
is  to  be  said  of  a  rich  community  which  recruits  its  clergy 
from  the  lower  classes?  The  method  of  election  by  competitive 
performance,  common  as  it  is  among  poor  Dissenters,  empha- 
sizes the  subjection  of  the  shepherd  to  his  flock.  You  catch 
your  ministers  young,  when  they  are  saturated  with  suppressed 
scepticism,  and  bribe  them  with  small  salaries  that  seem  afflu- 
ence to  the  sons  of  poor  immigrants.  That  the  ministry  is  not 
an  honorable  profession  may  be  seen  from  the  anxiety  of  the 
minister  to  raise  his  children  in  the  social  scale  by  bringing 
them  up  to  some  other  line  of  business." 

"  That  is  true,"  said  Raphael,  gravely.  "  Our  wealthy  families 
must  be  induced  to  devote  a  son  each  to  the  Synagogue." 

"  I  wish  they  would,"  said  Sidney.  "  At  present,  every  second 
man  is  a  lawyer.  We  ought  to  have  more  officers  and  doctors, 
too.  I  like  those  old  Jews  who  smote  the  Philistines  hip  and 
thigh  ;  it  is  not  good  for  a  race  to  run  all  to  brain :  I  suppose, 
though,  we  had  to  develop  cunning  to  survive  at  all.  There 
was  an  enlightened  minister  whose  Friday  evenings  I  used  to 
go  to  when  a  youth  —  delightful  talk  we  had  there,  too ;  you 
know  whom  1  mean.  Well,  one  of  his  sons  is  a  solicitor,  and 
the  other  a  stockbroker.  The  rich  men  he  preached  to  helped 
to  place  his  sons.  He  was  a  charming  man,  but  imagine  him 
preaching  to  them  the  truths  in  Mordecai  Josephs,  as  Mr.  Saville 
suggested." 


THE    CHRISTMAS  DINNER.  333 

'■'-Our  minister  lets  us  have  it  hot  enough,  though/'  said  Mr. 
Henry  Goldsmith  vv'ith  a  guffaw. 

His  wife  hastened  to  obliterate  the  unrefined  expression. 

"  Mr.  Strelitski  is  a  wonderfully  eloquent  young  man,  so  quiet 
and  reserved  in  society,  but  like  an  ancient  prophet  in  the 
pulpit." 

"  Yes,  we  were  very  lucky  to  get  him,''  said  Mr.  Henry  Gold- 
smith. 

The  little  dark  girl  shuddered. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  asked  Raphael  softly. 

"I  don't  know.  I  don't  like  the  Rev.  Joseph  Strelitski.  He 
is  eloquent,  but  his  dogmatism  irritates  me.  I  don't  believe  he 
is  sincere.     He  doesn't  like  me,  either." 

"  Oh,  you're  both  wrong,"  he  said  in  concern. 

"  Strelitski  is  a  draw,  I  admit,"  said  Mr.  Montagu  Samuels, 
who  was  the  President  of  a  rival  synagogue.  "  But  Rosenbaum 
is  a  good  pull-down  on  the  other  side,  eh  ? " 

Mr.  Henry  Goldsmith  groaned.  The  second  minister  of  the 
Kensington  synagogue  was  the  scandal  of  the  community.  He 
wasn't  expected  to  preach,  and  he  didn't  practise. 

"  I've  heard  of  that  man,"  said  Sidney  laughing.  "  He's  a  bit 
of  a  gambler  and  a  spendthrift,  isn't  he?  Why  do  you  keep  him 
on?" 

"  He  has  a  fine  voice,  you  see,"  said  Mr.  Goldsmith.  '•  That 
makes  a  Rosenbaum  faction  at  once.  Then  he  has  a  wife  and 
family.     That  makes  another." 

*'StreHtski  isn't  married,  is  he?"  asked  Sidney. 

"No,"  said  Mr.  Goldsmith,  "not  yet.  The  congregation 
expects  him  to,  though.  I  don't  care  to  give  him  the  hint  my- 
self; he  is  a  little  queer  sometimes." 

"  He  owes  it  to  his  position,"  said  Miss  Cissy  Levine. 

"  That  is  what  we  think,"  said  Mrs.  Henry  Goldsmith,  with 
the  majestic  manner  that  suited  her  opulent  beauty. 

"  I  wish  we  had  him  in  our  synagogue,"  said  Raphael. 
"  Michaels  is  a  well-meaning  worthy  man,  but  he  is  dreadfully 
dull." 

"Poor  Raphael!"  said  Sidney.     "Why  did  you  abolish  the 


334  GRANDCHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

old  style  of  minister  who  had  to  slaughter  the  sheep?  Now  the 
minister  reserves  all  his  powers  of  destruction  for  his  own  flock." 

"  I  have  given  him  endless  hints  to  preach  only  once  a  month," 
said  Mr.  Montagu  Samuels  dolefully.  "  But  every  Saturday  our 
hearts  sink  as  we  see  him  walk  to  the  pulpit." 

"  You  see,  Addie,  how  a  sense  of  duty  makes  a  man  criminal," 
said  Sidney.  "  Isn^t  Michaels  the  minister  who  defends  orthodoxy 
in  a  way  that  makes  the  orthodox  rage  over  his  unconscious 
heresies,  while  the  heterodox  enjoy  themselves  by  looking  out  for 
his  historical  and  grammatical  blunders !  " 

"  Poor  man,  he  works  hard,"  said  Raphael,  gently.  "  Let  him 
be." 

Over  the  dessert  the  conversation  turned  by  way  of  the  Rev. 
Strelitski's  marriage,  to  the  growing  willingness  of  the  younger 
generation  to  marry  out  of  Judaism.  The  table  discerned  in 
inter-marriage  the  beginning  of  the  end. 

"  But  why  postpone  the  inevitable  ?  "  asked  Sidney  calmly. 
"  What  is  this  mania  for  keeping  up  an  effete  ism  ?  Are  we  to 
cripple  our  lives  for  the  sake  of  a  word?  It's  all  romantic  fudge, 
the  idea  of  perpetual  isolation.  You  get  into  little  cliques  and 
mistaken  narrow-mindedness  for  fidelity  to  an  ideal.  I  can  live  for 
months  and  forget  there  are  such  beings  as  Jews  in  the  world. 
I  have  floated  down  the  Nile  in  a  dahabiya  while  you  were  beat- 
ing your  breasts  in  the  Synagogue,  and  the  palm-trees  and  peli- 
cans knew  nothing  of  your  sacrosanct  chronological  crisis,  your 
annual  epidemic  of  remorse." 

The  table  thrilled  with  horror,  without,  however,  quite  believ- 
ing in  the  speaker's  wickedness.     Addie  looked  troubled. 

''  A  man  and  wife  of  different  religions  can  never  know  true 
happiness,"  said  the  hostess. 

"  Granted,"  retorted  Sidney.  ''  But  why  shouldn't  Jews  with- 
out Judaism  marry  Christians  without  Christianity?  Must  a  Jew 
needs  have  a  Jewess  to  help  him  break  the  Law?  " 

"  Inter-marriage  must  not  be  tolerated,"  said  Raphael.  "  It 
would  hurt  us  less  if  we  had  a  country.  Lacking  that,  we  must 
preserve  our  human  boundaries." 

"  You  have  good  phrases  sometimes,,"  9,dmitted  Sidney.     "  But 


THE    CHRISTMAS  DINNER,  335 

why  must  we  preserv-e  any  boundaries  ?  Why  must  we  exist  at 
all  as  a  separate  people  ?  '^ 

"  To  fulfil  the  mission  of  Israel,"  said  Mr.  Montagu  Samuels 
solemnly. 

"Ah,  what  is  that?  That  is  one  of  the  things  nobody  ever 
seems  able  to  tell  me." 

"We  are  God's  witnesses,"  said  Mrs.  Henry  Goldsmith,  snip- 
ping off  for  herself  a  little  bunch  of  hot-house  grapes. 

"  False  witnesses,  mostly  then,"  said  Sidney.  "  A  Christian 
friend  of  mine,  an  artist,  fell  in  love  with  a  girl  and  courted  her 
regularly  at  her  house  for  four  years.  Then  he  proposed;  she 
told  him  to  ask  lier  father,  and  he  then  learned  for  the  first  time 
that  the  family  were  Jewish,  and  his  suit  could  not  therefore  be 
entertained.  Could  a  satirist  have  invented  anything  funnier? 
Whatever  it  was  Jews  have  to  bear  witness  to,  these  people  had 
been  bearing  witness  to  so  effectually  that  a  daily  visitor  never 
heard  a  word  of  the  evidence  during  four  years.  And  this  family 
is  not  an  exception ;  it  is  a  type.  Abroad  the  English  Jew 
keeps  his  Judaism  in  the  background,  at  home  in  the  back 
kitchen.  When  he  travels,  his  Judaism  is  not  packed  up  among 
his  iinpedunetita.  He  never  obtrudes  his  creed,  and  even  his 
Jewish  newspaper  is  sent  to  him  in  a  wrapper  labelled  something 
else.  How's  that  for  witnesses?  Mind  you,  Pm  not  blaming 
the  men,  being  one  of  'em.  They  may  be  the  best  fellows  going, 
honorable,  high-minded,  generous  —  why  expect  them  to  be 
martyrs  more  than  other  Englishmen?  Isn't  life  hard  enough 
without  inventing  a  new  hardship  ?  I  declare  there's  no  narrower 
creature  in  the  world  than  your  idealist ;  he  sets  up  a  moral  stand- 
ard which  suits  his  own  line  of  business,  and  rails  at  men  of  the 
world  for  not  conformmg  to  it.  God's  witnesses,  indeed!  I  say 
nothing  of  those  who  are  rather  the  Devil's  witnesses,  but  think 
of  the  host  of  Jews  like  myself  who,  whether  they  marry  Chris- 
tians or  not,  simply  drop  out,  and  whose  absence  of  all  religion 
escapes  notice  in  the  medley  of  creeds.  /We  no  more  give  evi- 
dence than  those  old  Spanish  Jews^^^^arannos,  they  were 
called,  weren't  they?  —  who  wore  the  Christian  mask  for  genera- 
tions.    Practically,  many  of  us  are  Marannos  still ;  I  don't  mean 


336  GRANDCHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

the  Jews  who  are  on  the  stage  and  the  press  and  all  that,  but  the 
Jews  who  have  gone  on  believing.  One  Day  of  Atonement  I 
amused  myself  by  noting  the  pretexts  on  the  shutters  of  shops 
that  were  closed  in  the  Strand.  'Our  annual  holiday.''  'Stock- 
taking day.'     '  Our  annual  bean-feast.'     '  Closed  for  repairs.'  " 

"  Well,  it's  something  if  they  keep  the  Fast  at  all,"  said  Mr. 
Henry  Goldsmith.     "  It  shows  spirituality  is  not  dead  in  them." 

"Spirituality!"  sneered  Sidney.  '•  Sheer  superstition,  rather. 
A  dread  of  thunderbolts.  Besides,  fasting  is  a  sensuous  attrac- 
tion. But  for  the  fasting,  the  Day  of  Atonement  would  have 
long  since  died  out  for  these  men.  'Our  annual  bean-feast'! 
There's  witnesses  for  you." 

"  We  cannot  help  if  we  have  false  witnesses  among  us,"  said 
Raphael  Leon  quietly.  "  Our  mission  is  to  spread  the  truth  of 
the  Torah  till  the  earth  is  filled  with  the  knowledge  of  the  Lord 
as  the  waters  cover  the  sea." 

"  But  we  don't  spread  it." 

"  We  do.  Christianity  and  Mohammedanism  are  offshoots  of 
Judaism  ;  through  them  we  have  won  the  v.'orld  from  Paganism 
and  taught  it  that  God  is  one  with  the  moral  law." 

"  Then  we  are  somewhat  in  the  position  of  an  ancient  school- 
master lagging  superfluous  in  the  school-room  where  his  whi- 
lom pupils  are  teaching." 

"  By  no  means.  Rather  of  one  who  stays  on  to  protest  against 
the  false  additions  of  his  whilom  pupils." 

"  But  we  don't  protest." 

"  Our  mere  existence  since  the  Dispersion  is  a  protest,"  urged 
Raphael.  "When  the  stress  of  persecution  lightens,  we  may 
protest  more  consciously.  We  cannot  have  been  preserved  in 
vain  through  so  many  centuries  of  horrors,  through  the  invasions 
of  the  Goths  and  Huns,  through  the  Crusades,  through  the  Holy 
Roman  Empire,  through  the  times  of  Torquemada.  It  is  not  for 
nothing  that  a  handful  of  Jews  loom  so  large  in  the  history  of 
the  world  that  their  past  is  bound  up  with  every  noble  human 
effort,  every  high  ideal,  every  development  of  science,  literature 
and  art.  The  ancient  faith  that  has  united  us  so  long  must  not 
be  lost  just  as  it  is  on  the  very  eve  of  surviving  the  faiths  that 


THE    CHRISTMAS  DINNER.  337 

sprang  from  it,  even  as  it  has  survived  Egypt,  Assyria,  Rome, 
Greece  and  the  Moors.  If  any  of  us  fancy  we  have  lost  it,  let  us 
keep  together  still.  Who  knows  but  that  it  will  be  born  again  in 
us  if  we  are  only  patient?  Race  affinity  is  a  potent  force  ;  why 
be  in  a  hurry  to  dissipate  it?  The  Marannos  you  speak  of  were 
but  maimed  heroes,  yet  one  day  the  olden  flame  burst  through 
the  layers  of  three  generations  of  Christian  profession  and  inter- 
marriage, and  a  brilliant  company  of  illustrious  Spaniards  threw 
up  their  positions  and  sailed  away  in  voluntary  exile  to  serve  the 
God  of  Israel.  We  shall  yet  see  a  spiritual  revival  even  among 
our  brilliant  English  Jews  who  have  hid  their  face  from  their 
own  flesh.'' 

The  dark  little  girl  looked  up  into  his  face  with  ill-suppressed 
wonder. 

"  Have  you  done  preaching  at  me,  Raphael  ? "'   inquired  Sidney. 
"  If  so,  pass  me  a  banana.'' 

Raphael  smiled  sadly  and  obeyed. 

"Em  afraid  if  I  see  much  of  Raphael  I  shall  be  converted  to 
Judaism,''  said  Sidney,  peeling  the  banana.  "  I  had  better  take 
a  hansom  to  the  Riviera  at  once.  I  intended  to  spend  Christmas 
there  ;  I  never  dreamed  I  should  be  talking  theology  in  London." 
"  Oh,  I  think  Christmas  in  London  is  best,"  said  the  hostess 
unguardedly. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know.     Give  me  Brighton,"  said  the  host. 
"  Well,  yes,  I  suppose  Brighton  is  pleasanter,"  said  Mr.  Mon- 
tagu Samuels. 

"  Oh,  but  so  many  Jews  go  there,"  said  Percy  Saville. 
"Yes,  that  is  the  drawback,"  said  Mrs.  Henry  Goldsmith. 
"  Do  you  know,  some  years  ago  I  discovered  a  delightful  village 
in  Devonshire,  and  took  the  household  there  in  the  summer. 
The  very  next  year  when  I  went  down  I  found  no  less  than  two 
Jewish  families  temporarily  located  there.  Of  course,  I  have 
never  gone  there  since." 

"  Yes,  it's  wonderful  how  Jews  scent  out  all  the  nicest  places," 
agreed   Mrs.  Montagu    Samuels.     "Five   years   ago   you  could 
escape  them  by  not  going  to  Ramsgate  ;  now  even  the  Highlands 
are  getting  impossible." 
z 


338  GRANDCHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

Thereupon  the  hostess  rose  and  the  ladies  retired  to  the  draw- 
ing-room, leaving  the  gentlemen  to  discuss  coffee,  cigars  and  the 
paradoxes  of  Sidney,  who,  tired  of  religion,  looked  to  dumb  show 
plays  for  the  salvation  of  dramatic  literature. 

There  was  a  little  milk-jug  on  the  coifee-tray.  It  represented 
a  victory  over  Mary  O'Reilly.  The  late  Aaron  Goldsmith  never 
took  milk  till  six  hours  after  meat,  and  it  was  with  some  trepida- 
tion that  the  present  Mr.  Goldsmith  ordered  it  to  be  sent  up  one 
evening  after  dinner.  He  took  an  early  opportunity  of  explain- 
ing apologetically  to  Mary  that  some  of  his  guests  were  not  so 
pious  as  himself,  and  hospitality  demanded  the  concession. 

Mr.  Henry  Goldsmith  did  not  like  his  coffee  black.  His 
dinner-table  was  hardly  ever  without  a  guest. 


CHAPTER   II. 

RAPHAEL   LEON. 

When  the  gentlemen  joined  the  ladies,  Raphael  instinctively 
returned  to  his  companion  of  the  dinner-table.  She  had  been 
singularly  silent  during  the  meal,  but  her  manner  had  attracted 
him.  Over  his  black  coffee  and  cigarette  it  struck  him  that  she 
might  have  been  unwell,  and  that  he  had  been  insufificiently  atten- 
tive to  the  little  duties  of  the  table,  and  lie  hastened  to  ask  if  she 
had  a  headache. 

"No,  no,''  she  said,  with  a  grateful  smile.  "At  least  not  more 
than  usual.''  Her  smile  was  full  of  pensive  sweetness,  which 
made  her  face  beautiful.  It  was  a  face  that  would  have  been 
almost  plain  but  for  the  soul  behind.  It  was  dark,  with  great 
earnest  eyes.  The  profile  was  disappointing,  the  curves  were 
not  perfect,  and  there  was  a  reminder  of  Polish  origin  in  the 
lower  jaw  and  the  cheek-bone.  Seen  from  the  front,  the  face 
fascinated  again,  in  the  Eastern  glow  of  its  coloring,  in  the  flash 
of  the  white  teeth,  in  the  depths  of  the  brooding  eyes,  in  the 
strength  of  the  features  that  yet  softened  to  womanliest  tender- 


RAPHAEL   LEON.  339 

ness  and  charm  when  flooded  by  the  sunshine  of  a  smile.  The 
figure  was  petite  and  graceful,  set  off  by  a  simple  tight-fitting, 
high-necked  dress  of  ivory  silk  draped  with  lace,  with  a  spray  of 
Neapolitan  violets  at  the  throat.  They  sat  in  a  niche  of  the 
spacious  and  artistically  furnished  drawing-room,  in  the  soft 
light  of  the  candles,  talking  quietly  while  Addie  played 
Chopin. 

Mrs.  Henry  Goldsmith's  aesthetic  instincts  had  had  full  play 
in  the  elaborate  carelessness  of  iht  euse/nble,  and  the  result  was 
a  triumph,  a  medley  of  Persian  luxury  and  Parisian  grace,  a  dream 
of  somniferous  couches  and  arm-chairs,  rich  tapestry,  vases,  fans, 
engravings,  books,  bronzes,  tiles,  plaques  and  flowers.  Mr. 
Henry  Goldsmith  was  himself  a  connoisseur  in  the  arts,  his  own 
and  his  father's  fortunes  having  been  built  up  in  the  curio  and 
antique  business,  though  to  old  Aaron  Goldsmith  appreciation 
had  meant  strictly  pricing,  despite  his  genius  for  detecting  false 
Correggios  and  sham  Louis  Quatorze  cabinets. 

"Do  you  suffer  from  headaches.?"  inquired  Raphael  solici- 
tously, 

"A  little.  The  doctor  says  I  studied  too  much  and  worked 
too  hard  when  a  little  girl.  Such  is  the  punishment  of  persever- 
ance.    Life  isn't  like  the  copy-books." 

"  Oh,  but  I  wonder  your  parents  let  you  over-exert  yourself." 

A  melancholy  smile  played  about  the  mobile  lips.  "  I  brought 
myself  up,"  she  said.  "  You  look  puzzled  —  Oh,  I  know!  Con- 
fess you  think  Pm  Miss  Goldsmith!  " 

"  Why  —  are  —  you  —  not  ?  "  he  stammered. 

"  No,  my  name  is  Ansell,  Esther  Ansell." 

"  Pardon  me.  I  am  so  bad  at  remembering  names  in  intro- 
ductions. But  Pve  just  come  back  from  Oxford  and  it's  the  first 
time  Pve  been  to  this  house,  and  seeing  you  here  without  a  cav- 
alier when  we  arrived,  I  thought  you  lived  here." 

"  You  thought  rightly,  I  do  live  here."  She  laughed  gently  at 
his  changing  expression. 

"  I  wonder  Sidney  never  mentioned  you  to  me,"  he  said. 

"  Do  you  mean  Mr.  Graham? "  she  said  with  a  slight  blush. 

"Yes,  I  know  he  visits  here." 


340  GRANDCHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

"•  Oh,  he  is  an  artist.  He  has  eyes  only  for  the  beautiful."  She 
spoke  quickly,  a  little  embarrassed. 

"  You  wrong  him  ;   his  interests  are  wider  than  that." 

"  Do  you  know  I  am  so  glad  you  didn't  pay  me  the  obvious 
compliment?"  she  said,  recovering  herself.  "It  looked  as  if  I 
were  fishing  for  it.     I'm  so  stupid." 

He  looked  at  her  blankly. 

"fm  stupid,"  he  said,  "for  I  don't  know  what  compliment  I 
missed  paying." 

"  If  you  regret  it  I  shall  not  think  so  well  of  you,"  she  said. 
"You  know  I've  heard  all  about  your  brilliant  success  at  Ox- 
ford." 

"  They  put  all  those  petty  little  things  in  the  Jewish  papers, 
don't  they  ? " 

"  I  read  it  in  the  Thnes^''  retorted  Esther.  "  You  took  a 
double  first  and  the  prize  for  poetry  and  a  heap  of  other  things, 
but  I  noticed  the  prize  for  poetry,  because  it  is  so  rare  to  find 
a  Jew  writing  poetry." 

"  Prize  poetry  is  not  poetry,"  he  reminded  her.  "  But,  con- 
sidering the  Jewish  Bible  contains  the  finest  poetry  in  the  world, 
I  do  not  see  why  you  should  be  surprised  to  find  a  Jew  trying 
to  write  some." 

"  Oh,  you  know  what  I  mean,"  answered  Esther.  "  What  is 
the  use  of  talking  about  the  old  Jews?  We  seem  to  be  a  differ- 
ent race  now.     Who  cares  for  poetry?" 

"  Our  poet's  scroll  reaches  on  uninterruptedly  through  the 
Middle  Ages.  The  passing  phenomenon  of  to-day  must  not 
blind  us  to  the  real  traits  of  our  race,"  said  Raphael. 

"  Nor  must  we  be  blind  to  the  passing  phenomenon  of  to-day," 
retorted  Esther.     "  We  have  no  ideals  now." 

"  I  see  Sidney  has  been  infecting  you,"  he  said  gently. 

"  No,  no ;  I  beg  you  will  not  think  that,"  she  said,  flushing 
almost  resentfully.  "  I  have  thought  these  things,  as  the  Scripture 
tells  us  to  meditate  on  the  Law,  day  and  night,  sleeping  and 
waking,  standing  up  and  sitting  down." 

"  You  cannot  have  thought  of  them  without  prejudice,  then," 
he  answered,  "  if  you  say  we  have  no  ideals." 


RAPHAEL   LEON.  341 

"  I  mean,  weVe  not  responsive  to  great  poetry  —  to  the  mes- 
sage of  a  Browning  for  instance." 

"I  deny  it.  Oaly  a  small  percentage  of  his  own  race  is 
responsive.  I  would  wager  our  percentage  is  proportionally 
higher.  But  Browning's  philosophy  of  religion  is  already  ours, 
for  hundreds  of  years  every  Saturday  night  every  Jew  has  been 
proclaiming  the  view  of  life  and  Providence  in  '  Pisgah  Sights. ' " 

All's  lend  and  borrow, 

Good,  see,  wants  evil, 
Joy  demands  sorrow, 

Angel  weds  devil. 

"What  is  this  but  the  philosophy  of  our  formula  for  ushering 
out  the  Sabbath  and  welcoming  in  the  days  of  toil,  accepting 
the  holy  and  the  profane,  the  light  and  the  darkness?" 

"  Is  that  in  the  prayer-book? "  said  Esther  astonished. 

"  Yes ;  you  see  you  are  ignorant  of  our  own  ritual  while 
admiring  everything  non-Jewish.  Excuse  me  if  I  am  frank, 
Miss  Ansell,  but  there  are  many  people  among  us  who  rave  over 
Italian  antiquities  but  can  see  nothing  poetical  in  Judaism. 
They  listen  eagerly  to  Dante  but  despise  David." 

"  I  shall  certainly  look  up  the  liturgy,"  said  Esther.  "  But 
that  will  not  alter  my  opinion.  The  Jew  may  say  these  fine 
things,  but  they  are  only  a  tune  to  him.  Yes,  I  begin  to  recall 
the  passage  in  Hebrew  —  I  see  my  father  making  HavdolaJi  — 
the  melody  goes  in  my  head  like  a  sing-song.  But  I  never  in 
my  life  thought  of  the  meaning.  As  a  little  girl  I  always  got 
my  conscious  religious  inspiration  out  of  the  New  Testament. 
It  sounds  very  shocking,  I  know." 

"  Undoubtedly  you  put  your  finger  on  an  evil.  But  there  is 
religious  edification  in  common  prayers  and  ceremonies  even 
when  divorced  from  meaning.  Remember  the  Latin  prayers  of 
the  Catholic  poor.  Jews  may  be  below  Judaism,  but  are  not  all 
men  below  their  creed  ?  If  the  race  which  gave  the  world  the 
Bible  knows  it  least  —  "  He  stopped  suddenly,  for  Addie  was 
playing  pianissimo,  and  although  she  was  his  sister,  he  did  not 
like  to  put  her  out. 


342  GRANDCHILDREN  OF  THE    GHETTO. 

"  It  comes  to  this,"  said  Esther  when  Chopin  spoke  louder, 
"  our  prayer-book  needs  depolarization,  as  Wendell  Holmes  says 
of  the  Bible." 

"  Exactly,"  assented  Raphael.  "  And  what  our  people  need 
is  to  make  acquaintance  with  the  treasure  of  our  own  literature. 
Why  go  to  Browning  for  theism,  when  the  words  of  his  '■  Rabbi 
Ben  Ezra '  are  but  a  synopsis  of  a  famous  Jewish  argument : 

"  '  I  see  the  whole  design, 
I,  who  saw  Power,  see  now  Love,  perfect  too. 

Perfect  I  call  Thy  plan, 

Thanks  that  I  was  a  man ! 
Maker,  remaker,  complete,  I  trust  what  thou  shalt  do.' 

"  It  sounds  like  a  bit  of  Bachja.  That  there  is  a  Power  out- 
side us  nobody  denies ;  that  this  Power  works  for  our  good  and 
wisely,  is  not  so  hard  to  grant  when  the  facts  of  the  soul  are 
weighed  with  the  facts  of  Nature.  Power,  Love,  Wisdom  — 
there  you  have  a  real  trinity  which  makes  up  the  Jewish  God. 
And  in  this  God  we  trust,  incomprehensible  as  are  His  ways, 
unintelligible  as  is  His  essence.  *•  Thy  ways  are  not  My  ways 
nor  Thy  thoughts  My  thoughts.'  That  comes  into  collision 
with  no  modern  philosophies ;  we  appeal  to  experience  and 
make  no  demands  upon  the  faculty  for  believing  things  '  because 
they  are  impossible.'  And  we  are  proud  and  happy  in  that  the 
dread  Unknown  God  of  the  infinite  Universe  has  chosen  our 
race  as  the  medium  by  which  to  reveal  His  will  to  the  world. 
We  are  sanctified  to  His  service.  History  testifies  that  this  has 
verily  been  our  mission,  that  we  have  taught  the  world  religion 
as  truly  as  Greece  has  taught  beauty  and  science.  Our  mirac- 
ulous survival  through  the  cataclysms  of  ancient  and  modern 
dynasties  is  a  proof  that  our  mission  is  not  yet  over." 

The  sonata  came  to  an  end ;  Percy  Saville  started  a  comic 
song,  playing  his  own  accompaniment.  Fortunately,  it  was 
loud  and  rollicking. 

"  And  do  you  really  believe  that  we  are  sanctified  to  God's 
service?"  said  Esther,  casting  a  melancholy  glance  at  Percy's 
grimaces. 


RAPHAEL  LEON.  343 

"  Can  there  be  any  doubt  of  it?  God  made  choice  of  one  race 
to  be  messengers  and  apostles,  martyrs  at  need  to  His  truth. 
Happily,  the  sacred  duty  is  ours,"  he  said  earnestly,  utterly  un- 
conscious of  the  incongruity  that  struck  Esther  so  keenly.  And 
yet,  of  the  two,  he  had  by  far  the  greater  gift  of  humor.  It  did 
not  destroy  his  idealism,  but  kept  it  in  touch  with  things  mun- 
dane. Esther's  vision,  though  more  penetrating,  lacked  this 
corrective  of  humor,  which  makes  always  for  breadth  of  view. 
Perhaps  it  was  because  she  was  a  woman,  that  the  trivial,  sordid 
details  of  life's  comedy  hurt  her  so  acutely  that  she  could  scarcely 
sit  out  the  play  patiently.  Where  Raphael  would  have  admired 
the  lute,  Esther  was  troubled  by  the  little  rifts  in  it. 

"But  isn't  that  a  narrow  conception  of  God's  revelation?"  she 
asked. 

"  No.  Why  should  God  not  teach  through  a  great  race  as 
through  a  great  man  ?  " 

"  And  you  really  think  that  Judaism  is  not  dead,  intellectually 
speaking?" 

"How  can  it  die?  Its  truths  are  eternal,  deep  in  human 
nature  and  the  constitution  of  things.  Ah,  I  wish  I  could  get 
you  to  see  with  the  eyes  of  the  great  Rabbis  and  sages  in  Israel ; 
to  look  on  this  human  life  of  ours,  not  with  the  pessimism  of 
Christianity,  but  as  a  holy  and  precious  gift,  to  be  enjoyed  heart- 
ily yet  spent  in  God's  service — birth,  marriage,  death,  all  holy; 
good,  evil,  alike  holy.  Nothing  on  God's  earth  common  or  pur- 
poseless. Everything  chanting  the  great  song  of  God's  praise  ;  the 
morning  stars  singing  together,  as  we  say  in  the  Dawn  Service." 

As  he  spoke  Esther's  eyes  filled  with  strange  tears.  Enthu- 
siasm always  infected  her,  and  for  a  brief  instant  her  sordid 
universe  seemed  to  be  transfigured  to  a  sacred  joyous  reality, 
full  of  infinite  potentialities  of  worthy  work  and  noble  pleasure. 
A  thunder  of  applausive  hands  marked  the  end  of  Percy  Saville's 
comic  song.  Mr.  Montagu  Samuels  was  beaming  at  his  brother's 
grotesque  drollery.  There  was  an  interval  of  general  conversa- 
tion, followed  by  a  round  game  in  which  Raphael  and  Esther 
had  to  take  part.  It  was  very  dull,  and  they  were  glad  to  find 
themselves  together  again. 


344  GRANDCHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

"Ah,  yes,"  said  Esther,  sadly,  resuming  the  conversation  as  if 
there  had  been  no  break,  "  but  this  is  a  Judaism  of  your  own 
creation.  The  real  Judaism  is  a  religion  of  pots  and  pans.  It 
does  not  call  to  the  souPs  depths  like  Christianity.'" 

"  Again,  it  is  a  question  of  the  point  of  view  taken.  From  a 
practical,  our  ceremonialism  is  a  training  in  self-conquest,  while 
it  links  the  generations  '  bound  each  to  each  by  natural  piety,' 
and  unifies  our  atoms  dispersed  to  the  four  corners  of  the  earth 
as  nothing  else  could.  From  a  theoretical,  it  is  but  an  extension 
of  the  principle  I  tried  to  show  you.  Eating,  drinking,  every 
act  of  life  is  holy,  is  sanctified  by  some  relation  to  heaven.  We 
will  not  arbitrarily  divorce  some  portions  of  life  from  religion, 
and  say  these  are  of  the  world,  the  flesh,  or  the  devil,  any  more 
than  we  will  save  up  our  religion  for  Sundays.  There  is  no 
devil,  no  original  sin,  no  need  of  salvation  from  it,  no  need  of  a 
mediator.  Every  Jew  is  in  as  direct  relation  with  God  as  the 
Chief  Rabbi.  Christianity  is  an  historical  failure  —  its  counsels 
of  perfection,  its  command  to  turn  the  other  cheek  —  a  farce. 
When  a  modern  spiritual  genius,  a  Tolstoi",  repeats  it,  all  Chris- 
tendom laughs,  as  at  a  new  freak  of  insanity.  All  practical, 
honorable  men  are  Jews  at  heart.  Judaism  has  never  tampered 
with  human  dignity,  nor  perverted  the  moral  consciousness.  Our 
housekeeper,  a  Christian,  once  said  to  my  sister  Addie,  '  Fm  so 
glad  to  see  you  do  so  much  charity.  Miss ;  /  need  not,  because 
Fm  saved  already.'  Judais?n  is  the  true  '-  religion  of  humanity.' 
It  does  not  seek  to  make  men  and  women  angels  before  their 
time.  Our  marriage  service  blesses  the  King  of  the  Universe, 
who  has  created  'joy  and  gladness,  bridegroom  and  bride,  mirth 
and  exultation,  pleasure  and  delight,  love,  brotherhood,  peace 
and  fellowship.' " 

"  It  is  all  very  beautiful  in  theory,"  said  Esther.  "  But  so  is 
Christianity,  which  is  also  not  to  be  charged  with  its  historical 
caricatures,  nor  with  its  superiority  to  average  human  nature. 
As  for  the  doctrine  of  original  sin,  it  is  the  one  thing  that  the 
science  of  heredity  has  demonstrated,  with  a  difference.  But 
do  not  be  alarmed,  I  do  not  call  myself  a  Christian  because  I 
see  some  relation  between  the  dogmas  of  Christianity  and  the 


RAPHAEL  LEON.  345 

truths  of  experience,  nor  even  because" — here  she  smiled, 
wistfully  —  "I  should  like  to  believe  in  Jesus.  But  you  are  less 
logical.  When  you  said  there  was  no  devil,  I  felt  sure  I  was 
right ;  that  you  belong  to  the  modern  schools,  who  get  rid  of 
all  the  old  beliefs  but  cannot  give  up  the  old  names.  You  know, 
as  well  as  I  do,  that,  take  away  the  belief  in  hell,  a  real  old- 
fashioned  hell  of  fire  and  brimstone,  even  such  Judaism  as  sur- 
vives would  freeze  to  death  without  that  genial  warmth.'" 

*'  I  know  nothing  of  the  kind,"  he  said,  ^'  and  I  am  in  no 
sense  a  modern.  I  am  (to  adopt  a  phrase  which  is,  to  me, 
tautologous)  an  orthodox  Jew." 

Esther  smiled.  "  Forgive  my  smiling,"  she  said.  "  I  am 
thinking  of  the  orthodox  Jews  I  used  to  know,  who  used  to  bind 
their  phylacteries  on  their  arms  and  foreheads  every  morning." 

"  I  bind  my  phylacteries  on  my  arm  and  forehead  every  morn- 
ing," he  said,  simply. 

"What!  "  gasped  Esther.     "  You  an  Oxford  man!" 

"Yes,"  he  said,  gravely.     "  Is  it  so  astonishing  to  you?" 

"Yes,  it  is.  You  are  the  first  educated  Jew  I  have  ever  met 
who  believed  in  that  sort  of  thing." 

"Nonsense?"  he  said,  inquiringly.  "There  are  hundreds  like 
me." 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  There's  the  Rev.  Joseph  Strelitski.  I  suppose  he  does,  but 
then  he's  paid  for  it." 

"  Oh,  why  will  you  sneer  at  Strelitski?  "  he  said,  pained.  "He 
has  a  noble  soul.  It  is  to  the  privilege  of  his  conversation  that 
I  owe  my  best  understanding  of  Judaism." 

"Ah,  I  was  wondering  why  the  old  arguments  sounded  so 
different,  so  much  more  convincing,  from  your  lips,"  murmured 
Esther.  "Now  I  know;  because  he  wears  a  white  tie.  That 
sets  up  all  my  bristles  of  contradiction  when  he  opens  his 
mouth." 

"  But  I  wear  a  white  tie,  too,"  said  Raphael,  his  smile  broad- 
ening in  sympathy  with  the  slow  response  on  the  girl's  serious 
face. 

"  That's  not  a  trade-mark,"  she  protested.     "  But  forgive  me  ; 


346  GRANDCHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

I  didn't  know  Strelitski  was  a  friend  of  yours.  I  won't  say  a 
word  against  him  any  more.  His  sermons  really  are  above  the 
average,  and  he  strives  more  than  the  others  to  make  Judaism 
more  spiritual." 

"Mo;:£  spiritual !"  he  repeated,  the  pained  expression  return- 
ing. /"  Why,  the  very  theory  of  Judaism  has  always  been  the 
spirituMtzation  of  the  material." 

"  And  the  practice  of  Judaism  has  always  been  the  materiali- 
zation of  the  spiritual,"  she  answered. 

He  pondered  the  saying  thoughtfully,  his  face  growing  sadder. 

"You  have  lived  among  your  books,"  Esther  went  on.     "I 
have  lived  among  the  brutal  facts.     I  was  born  in  the  Ghetto, 
and  when   you  talk   of  the   mission  of  Israel,   silent   sardonic 
laughter  goes  through  me  as  I   think   of  the  squalor  and   the 
misery." 

"God  works  through  human  suffering;  his  ways  are  large," 
said  Raphael,  almost  in  a  whisper. 

"  And  wasteful,"  said  Esther.  "  3pare  me  clerical  platitudes 
a  la  Strelitski.     I  have  seen  so  muchj) 

"  And  suffered  much  ?  "  he  asked  gently. 

She  nodded  scarce  perceptibly.    "  Oh,  if  you  only  knew  my  life!  " 

"  Tell  it  me,"  he  said.  His  voice  was  soft  and  caressing. 
His  frank  soul  seemed  to  pierce  through  all  conventionalities, 
and  to  go  straight  to  hers. 

"I  cannot,  not  now,"  she  murmured.  "There  is  so  much  to 
tell." 

"Tell  me  a  little,"  he  urged. 

She  began  to  speak  of  her  history,  scarce  knowing  why,  for- 
getting he  was  a  stranger.  Was  it  racial  affinity,  or  was  it 
merely  the  spiritual  affinity  of  souls  that  feel  their  identity 
through  all  differences  of  brain? 

"What  is  the  use?"  she  said.  "You,  with  your  childhood, 
could  never  realize  mine.  My  mother  died  when  I  was  seven; 
my  father  was  a  Russian  pauper  alien  who  rarely  got  work. 
I  had  an  elder  brother  of  brilliant  promise.  He  died  before  he 
was  thirteen.  I  had  a  lot  of  brothers  and  sisters  and  a  grand- 
mother, and  we  all  lived,  half  starved,  in  a  garret." 


RAPHAEL   LEON.  347 

Her  eyes  grew  humid  at  the  recollection ;  she  saw  the  spa- 
cious drawing-room  and  the  dainty  bric-a-brac  through  a  mist. 

"  Poor  child! ''  murmured  Raphael. 

'^  Strelitski,  by  the  way,  lived  in  our  street  then.  He  sold 
cigars  on  commission  and  earned  an  honest  living.  Some- 
times I  used  to  think  that  is  why  he  never  cares  to  meet  my 
eye  ;  he  remembers  me  and  knows  I  remember  him  ;  at  other 
times  I  thought  he  knew  that  I  saw  through  his  professions  of 
orthodoxy.  But  as  you  champion  him,  I  suppose  I  must  look 
for  a  more  creditable  reason  for  his  inability  to  look  me  straight 
in  the  face.  Well,  I  grew  up,  I  got  on  well  at  school,  and  about 
ten  years  ago  I  won  a  prize  given  by  Mrs.  Henry  Goldsmith, 
whose  kindly  interest  I  excited  thenceforward.  At  thirteen  I 
became  a  teacher.  This  had  always  been  my  aspiration  ;  when 
it  was  granted  I  was  more  unhappy  than  ever.  I  began  to 
realize  acutely  that  we  were  terribly  poor.  I  found  it  difficult  to 
dress  so  as  to  insure  the  respect  of  my  pupils  and  colleagues  ; 
the  work  was  unspeakably  hard  and  unpleasant ;  tiresome  and 
hungry  little  girls  had  to  be  ground  to  suit  the  inspectors,  and 
fell  victims  to  the  then  prevalent  competition  among  teachers 
for  a  high  percentage  of  passes.  I  had  to  teach  Scripture  his- 
tory and  I  didn't  believe  in  it.  None  of  us  believed  in  it ;  the 
talking  serpent,  the  Egyptian  miracles,  Samson,  Jonah  and  the 
whale,  and  all  that.  Everything  about  me  was  sordid  and 
unlovely.  I  yearned  for  a  fuller,  wider  life,  for  larger  knowl- 
edge. I  hungered  for  the  sun.  In  short,  I  was  intensely  mis- 
erable. At  home  things  went  from  bad  to  worse ;  often  I  was 
the  sole  bread-winner,  and  my  few  shillings  a  week  were  our 
only  income.  My  brother  'Solomon  grew  up,  but  could  not 
get  into  a  decent  situation  because  he  must  not  work  on  the 
Sabbath.  Oh,  if  you  knew  how  young  lives  are  cramped  and 
shipwrecked  at  the  start  by  this  one  curse  of  the  Sabbath,  you 
would  not  wish  us  to  persevere  in  our  isolation.  It  sent  a  mad 
thrill  of  indignation  through  me  to  find  my  father  daily  entreat- 
ing the  deaf  heavens." 

He  would  not  argue  now.     His  eyes  were  misty. 

"  Go  on!  "  he  murmured. 


348  GRANDCHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

"  The  rest  is  nothing.  Mrs.  Henry  Goldsmith  stepped  in  as 
the  dea  ex  machma.  Slie  had  no  children,  and  she  took  it  into 
her  head  to  adopt  me.  Naturall}'  I  was  dazzled,  though  anxious 
about  my  brothers  and  sisters.  But  my  father  looked  upon  it  as 
a  godsend.  Without  consulting  me,  Mrs.  Goldsmith  arranged 
that  he  and  the  other  children  should  be  shipped  to  America ; 
she  got  him  some  work  at  a  relative's  in  Chicago.  I  suppose  she 
was  afraid  of  having  the  family  permanently  hanging  about  the 
Terrace.  At  first  I  was  grieved  ;  but  when  the  pain  of  parting 
was  over  I  found  myself  relieved  to  be  rid  of  them,  especially  of 
my  father.  It  sounds  shocking,  I  know,  but  I  can  confess  all  my 
vanities  now,  for  I  have  learned  all  is  vanity.  I  thought  Para- 
dise was  opening  before  me  ;  I  was  educated  by  the  best  masters, 
and  graduated  at  the  London  University.  I  travelled  and  saw 
the  Continent ;  had  my  fill  of  sunshine  and  beauty.  I  have  had 
many  happy  moments,  realized  many  childish  ambitions,  but 
happiness  is  as  far  away  as  ever.  My  old  school-colleagues  envy 
me,  yet  I  do  not  know  whether  I  would  not  go  back  without 
regret." 

"Is  there  anything  lacking  in  your  life,  then?"  he  asked 
gently. 

"  No,  I  happen  to  be  a  nasty,  discontented  little  thing,  that  is 
all,"  she  said,  with  a  faint  smile.  "  Look  on  me  as  a  psycholog- 
ical paradox,  or  a  text  for  the  preacher." 

"And  do  the  Goldsmiths  know  of  your  discontent?  " 

"  Heaven  forbid!  They  have  been  so  very  kind  to  me.  We 
get  along  very  well  together.  I  never  discuss  religion  with  them, 
only  the  services  and  the  minister." 

"  And  your  relatives  ?  " 

"Ah,  they  are  all  well  and  happy.  Solomon  has  a  store  in 
Detroit.  He  is  only  nineteen  and  dreadfully  enterprising. 
Father  is  a  pillar  of  a  Chicago  Chevra.  He  still  talks  Yiddish. 
He  has  escaped  learning  American  just  as  he  escaped  learning 
English.  I  buy  him  a  queer  old  Hebrew  book  sometimes  with 
my  pocket-money  and  he  is  happy.  One  little  sister  is  a  type- 
writer, and  the  other  is  just  out  of  school  and  does  the  house- 
work.    I  suppose  I  shall  go  out  and  see  them  all  some  day." 


RAPHAEL   LEON.  349 

"What  became  of  the  grandmother  you  mentioned?  " 

"  She  had  a  Charity  Funeral  a  year  before  the  miracle  hap- 
pened. She  was  very  weak  and  ill,  and  the  Charity  Doctor 
warned  her  that  she  must  not  fast  on  -the  Day  of  Atonement. 
But  she  wouldn't  even  moisten  her  parched  lips  with  a  drop  of 
cold  water.  And  so  she  died ;  exhorting  my  father  with  her 
last  breath  to  beware  of  Mrs.  Simons  (a  good-hearted  widow 
wdio  was  very  kind  to  us),  and  to  marry  a  pious  Polish  woman." 

"And  did  he?'' 

"No,  I  am  still  stepmotherless.  Your  white  tie's  gone  wrong. 
It's  all  on  one  side." 

"  It  generally  is,"  said  Raphael,  fumbling  perfunctorily  at  the 
little  bow. 

"  Let  me  put  it  straight.  There!  And  now  you  know  all  about 
me.     I  hope  you  are  going  to  repay  my  confidences  in  kind." 

"  I  am  afraid  I  cannot  oblige  with  anything  so  romantic,"  he 
said  smiling.  "  I  was  born  of  rich  but  honest  parents,  of  a  fam- 
ily settled  in  England  for  three  generations,  and  went  to  Harrow 
and  Oxford  in  due  course.  That  is  all.  I  saw  a  little  of  the 
Ghetto,  though,  when  I  was  a  boy.  I  had  some  correspondence 
on  Hebrew  Literature  with  a  great  Jewish  scholar,  Gabriel  Ham- 
burg (he  lives  in  Stockholm  now),  and  one  day  when  I  was  up 
from  Harrow  I  went  to  see  him.  By  good  fortune  I  assisted  at 
the  foundation  of  the  Holy  Land  League,  now  presided  over  by 
Gideon,  the  member  for  Whitechapel.  I  was  moved  to  tears  by 
the  enthusiasm ;  it  was  there  I  made  the  acquaintance  of  Stre- 
litski.  He  spoke  as  if  inspired.  I  also  met  a  poverty-stricken 
poet,  Melchitsedek  Pinchas,  who  afterwards  sent  me  his  work, 
MetatoroiCs  Flames,  to  Harrow.  A  real  neglected  genius.  Now 
there's  the  man  to  bear  in  mind  when  one  speaks  of  Jews  and 
poetry.  After  that  night  I  kept  up  a  regular  intercourse  with 
the  Ghetto,  and  have  been  there  several  times  lately." 

"  But  surely  you  don't  also  long  to  return  to  Palestine?  " 

"  I  do.     Why  should  we  not  have  our  own  country  ?  " 

"It  would  be  too  chaotic!  Fancy  all  the  Ghettos  of  the  world 
amalgamating.  Everybody  would  want  to  be  ambassador  at 
Paris,  as  the  old  joke  says." 


350  GRANDCHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

"It  would  be  a  problem  for  the  statesmen  among  us.  Dis- 
senters, Churchmen,  Atheists,  Slum  Savages,  Clodhoppers,  Phi- 
losophers, Aristocrats  —  make  up  Protestant  England.  It  is  the 
popular  ignorance  of  the  fact  that  Jews  are  as  diverse  as  Protes- 
tants that  makes  such  novels  as  we  were  discussing  at  dinner 
harmful.'" 

"  But  is  the  author  to  blame  for  that  ?  He  does  not  claim  to 
present  the  whole  truth  but  a  facet.  English  society  lionized 
Thackeray  for  his  pictures  of  it.  Good  heavens!  Do  Jews  sup- 
pose they  alone  are  free  from  the  snobbery,  hypocrisy  and  vul- 
garity that  have  shadowed  every  society  that  has  ever  existed?'^ 

"  In  no  work  of  art  can  the  spectator  be  left  out  of  account," 
he  urged.  "  In  a  world  full  of  smouldering  prejudices  a  scrap  of 
paper  may  start  the  bonfire.  English  society  can  afford  to  laugh 
where  Jewish  society  must  weep.  That  is  why  our  papers  are 
always  so  effusively  grateful  for  Christian  compliments.  You 
see  it  is  quite  true  that  the  author  paints  not  the  Jews  but  bad 
Jews,  but,  in  the  absence  of  paintings  of  good  Jews,  bad  Jews 
are  taken  as  identical  with  Jews." 

"  Oh,  then  you  agree  with  the  others  about  the  book?"  she 
said  in  a  disappoinited  tone. 

"  I  haven't  read  it ;  I  am  speaking  generally.     Have  you?  " 

"Yes." 

"And  what  did  you  think  of  it?  I  don't  remember  your 
expressing  an  opinion  at  table." 

She  pondered  an  instant. 

"  I  thought  highly  of  it  and  agreed  with  every  word  of  it." 
She  paused.  He  looked  expectantly  into  the  dark  intense  face. 
He  saw  it  was  charged  with  further  speech. 

"Till  I  met  you,"  she  concluded  abruptly. 

A  wave  of  emotion  passed  over  his  face. 

"You  don't  mean  that?"  he  murmured. 

"Yes,  I  do.     You  have  shown  me  new  lights." 

"  I  thought  I  was  speaking  platitudes,"  he  said  simply.  "  It 
would  be  nearer  the  truth  to  say  you  have  given  me  new  lights." 

The  little  face  flushed  with  pleasure ;  the  dark  skin  shining, 
the  eyes  sparkling.     Esther  looked  quite  pretty. 


RAPHAEL  LEON.  351 

"How  is  that  possible?''  she  said.  "You  have  read  and 
thought  twice  as  much  as  I." 

"  Then  you  must  be  indeed  poorly  off,"  he  said,  smiling. 
"  But  I  am  really  glad  we  met.  I  have  been  asked  to  edit  a  new 
Jewish  paper,  and  our  talk  has  made  me  see  more  clearly  the 
lines  on  which  it  must  be  run,  if  it  is  to  do  any  good.  I  am 
awfully  indebted  to  you." 

"A  new  Jewish  paper?"  she  said,  deeply  interested.  "We 
have  so  many  already.     What  is  its  raison  d'etj'ef'' 

"  To  convert  you,"  he  said  smiling,  but  with  a  ring  of  serious- 
ness in  the  words. 

"  Isn't  that  like  a  steam-hammer  cracking  a  nut  or  Hoti  burn- 
ing down  his  house  to  roast  a  pig?  And  suppose  I  refuse  to  take 
in  the  new  Jewish  paper?  Will  it  suspend  publication?"  He 
laughed. 

"What's  this  about  a  new  Jewish  paper?  "said  Mrs.  Gold- 
smith, suddenly  appearing  in  front  of  them  with  her  large  genial 
smile.  "Is  that  what  you  two  have  been  plotting?  I  noticed 
you've  laid  your  heads  together  all  the  evening.  Ah  well,  birds 
of  a  feather  flock  together.  Do  you  know  my  little  Esther  took 
the  scholarship  for  logic  at  London?  I  wanted  her  to  proceed 
to  the  M.  A.  at  once,  but  the  doctor  said  she  must  have  a  rest." 
She  laid  her  hand  affectionately  on  the  girl's  hair. 

Esther  looked  embarrassed. 

"  And  so  she  is  still  a  Bachelor,"  said  Raphael,  smiling  but 
evidently  impressed. 

"Yes,  but  not  for  long  I  hope,"  returned  Mrs.  Goldsmith. 
"  Come,  darling,  everybody's  dying  to  hear  one  of  your  little 
songs." 

"  The  dying  is  premature,"  said  Esther.  "  You  know  I  only 
sing  for  my  own  amusement." 

"  Sing  for  mine,  then,"  pleaded  Raphael. 

"  To  make  you  laugh  ? "  queried  Esther.  "  I  know  you'll  laugh 
at  the  way  I  play  the  accompaniment.  One's  fingers  have  to  be 
used  to  it  from  childhood  —  " 

Her  eyes  finished  the  sentence,  "and  you  know  what  mine 
was." 


352  GRANDCHILDREN   OF  THE    GHETTO. 

The  look  seemed  to  seal  their  secret  sympathy. 

She  went  to  the  piano  and  sang  in  a  thin  but  trained  soprano. 
The  song  was  a  ballad  with  a  quaint  air  full  of  sadness  and 
heartbreak.  To  Raphael,  who  had  never  heard  the  psalmic 
wails  of  "The  Sons  of  the  Covenant"  or  the  Polish  ditties  of 
Fanny  Belcovitch,  it  seemed  also  full  of  originality.  He  wished 
to  lose  liimself  in  the  sweet  melancholy,  but  Mrs.  Goldsmith, 
who  had  taken  Esther"'s  seat  at  his  side,  would  not  let  him. 

"  Her  own  composition  —  words  and  music,''  she  whispered. 
"  I  wanted  her  to  publish  it,  but  she  is  so  shy  and  retiring.  Who 
would  think  she  was  the  child  of  a  pauper  emigrant,  a  rough 
jewel  one  has  picked  up  and  polished?  If  you  really  are  going 
to  start  a  new  Jewish  paper,  she  might  be  of  use  to  you.  And 
then  there  is  Miss  Cissy  Levine  —  you  have  read  her  novels,  of 
course?  Sweetly  pretty!  Do  you  know,  I  think  we  are  badly 
in  w^ant  of  a  new  paper,  and  you  are  the  only  man  in  the  com- 
munity who  could  give  it  us.  We  want  educating,  we  poor 
people,  we  know  so  little  of  our  faith  and  our  literature."" 

"  I  am  so  glad  you  feel  the  want  of  it,"  whispered  Raphael, 
forgetting  Esther  in  his  pleasure  at  finding  a  soul  yearning  for 
the  light. 

"  Intensely.     I  suppose  it  will  be  advanced?  " 

Raphael  looked  at  her  a  moment  a  little  bewildered. 

"No,  it  will  be  orthodox.  It  is  the  orthodox  party  that  sup- 
plies the  funds." 

A  flash  of  light  leaped  into  Mrs.  Goldsmith's  eyes. 

"I  am  so  glad  it  is  not  as  I  feared,"  she  said.  "The  rival 
party  has  hitherto  monopolized  the  press,  and  I  was  afraid  that 
like  most  of  our  young  men  of  talent  you  would  give  it  that  ten- 
dency. Now  at  last  we  poor  orthodox  will  have  a  voice.  It  will 
be  wTitten  in  English  ?  " 

"  As  far  as  I  can,"  he  said,  smiling. 

"  No,  you  know  what  I  mean.  I  thought  the  majority  of  the 
orthodox  couldn't  read  English  and  that  they  have  their  jargon 
papers.     Will  you  be  able  to  get  a  circulation?" 

"There  are  thousands  of  families  in  the  East  End  now  among 
whom  English  is  read  if  not  written.  The  evening  papers  sell 
as  well  there  as  anywhere  else  in  London." 


RAPHAEL  LEON.  353 

"  Bravo!"  murmured  Mrs.  Goldsmith,  clapping  her  hands. 

Esther  had  finished  her  song.  Raphael  awoke  to  the  remem- 
brance of  her.  But  she  did  not  come  to  him  again,  sitting  down 
instead  on  a  lounge  near  the  piano,  where  Sidney  bantered 
Addie  with  his  most  paradoxical  persiflage. 

Raphael  looked  at  her.     Her  expression  was  abstracted,  her 
eyes  had  an  inward  look.     He  hoped  her  headache  had  not  got 
worse.     She  did  not  look  at  all  pretty  now.     She  seemed  a  frail 
little  creature  with  a  sad  thoughtful  face  and  an  air  of  being  alone 
in  the  midst  of  a  merry  company.     Poor  little  thing!     He  felt  as 
if  he  had  known  her  for  years.     She  seemed  curiously  out  of  har- 
mony with  all  these  people.     He  doubted  even  his  own  capacity 
to  commune  with  her  inmost  soul.     He  wished  he  could  be  of 
service  to  her,  could  do  anything  for  her  that  might  lighten  her 
gloom  and  turn  her  morbid  thoughts  in  healthier  directions. 
^  The  butler  brought  in  some  claret  negus.     It  was  the  break-up 
signal.     Raphael  drank  his  negus  with  a  pleasant  sense  of  arm- 
ing  himself  against   the   cold   air.     He  wanted  to  walk  home 
snioking  his  pipe,  which  he  always  carried  in  his  overcoat.     He 
clasped  Esther^s  hand  with  a  cordial  smile  of  farewell. 
"We  shall  meet  again  soon,  I  trust,''  he  said. 
"  I  hope  so,"  said  Esther  ;  "  put  me  down  as  a  subscriber  to 

that  paper." 

"Thank  you,"  he  said;  "I  won't  forget." 

"What's  that?"  said  Sidney,  pricking  up  his  ears  ;  "doubled 

your  circulation  already?  " 

Sidney  put  his  cousin  Addie  into  a  hansom,  as  she  did  not 

care  to  walk,  and  got  in  beside  her. 

"  My  feet  are  tired,"  she  said ;  "  I  danced  a  lot  last  night,  and 

was  out  a  lot  this  afternoon.     It's  all  very  well  for  Raphael,  who 

doesn't   know  whether  he's  walking  on  his  head  or  his  heels. 

Here,  put  your  collar  up,  Raphael,  not  like  that,  it's  all  crumpled. 

Haven't   you   got   a   handkerchief  to   put   round   your   throat? 

Where's  that  one  I  gave  you?     Lend  him  yours,  Sidney." 

"You  don't  mind  if  /catch  my  death  of  cold;  I've  got  to  go 

on  a  Christmas   dance  when  I  deposit  you  on  your  doorstep," 

grumbled  Sidney.     "Catch!     There,  you  duffer!     It's  gone  into 

2A 


354  GRANDCHILDREN  OF  THE    GHETTO. 

the  mud.  Sure  you  wonH  jump  in?  Plenty  of  room.  Addie 
can  sit  on  my  knee.     Well,  ta,  ta  !     Merry  Christmas." 

Raphael  lit  his  pipe  and  strode  off  with  long  ungainly  strides. 
It  was  a  clear  frosty  night,  and  the  moonlight  glistened  on  the 
silent  spaces  of  street  and  square. 

"  Go  to  bed,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Goldsmith,  returning  to  the 
lounge  where  Esther  still  sat  brooding.  "  You  look  quite  worn 
out." 

Left  alone,  Mrs.  Goldsmith  smiled  pleasantly  at  Mr.  Gold- 
smith, who,  uncertain  of  how  he  had  behaved  himself,  always 
waited  anxiously  for  the  verdict.  He  was  pleased  to  find  it  was 
"  not  guilty  "  this  time. 

"  I  think  that  went  off  very  well,"  she  said.  She  was  looking 
very  lovely  to-night,  the  low  bodice  emphasizing  the  voluptuous 
outlines  of  the  bust. 

"  Splendidly,"  he  returned.  He  stood  with  his  coat-tails  to 
the  fire,  his  coarse-grained  face  beaming  like  an  extra  lamp. 
"The  people  and  those  croquettes  were  A  i.  The  way  Mary's 
picked  up  French  cookery  is  wonderful." 

"  Yes,  especially  considering  she  denies  herself  butter.  But 
Pm  not  thinking  of  that  nor  of  our  guests."  He  looked  at  her 
wonderingly.  "  Henry,"  she  continued  impressively,  "  how 
would  you  like  to  get  into  Parliament  ?  " 

"Eh,  Parliament?     Me?  "  he  stammered. 

"  Yes,  why  not?     Pve  always  had  it  in  my  eye." 

His  face  grew  gloomy.  "It  is  not  practicable,"  he  said,  shak- 
ing the  head  with  the  prominent  teeth  and  ears. 

"  Not  practicable?  "  she  echoed  sharply.  "  Just  think  of  what 
you've  achieved  already,  and  don't  tell  me  you're  going  to  stop 
now.  Not  practicable,  indeed!  Why,  that's  the  very  word  you 
used  years  ago  in  the  provinces  when  I  said  you  ought  to  be 
President.  You  said  old  Winkelstein  had  been  in  the  position 
too  long  to  be  ousted.  And  yet  I  felt  certain  your  superior 
English  would  tell  in  the  long  run  in  such  a  miserable  congrega- 
tion of  foreigners,  and  when  Winkelstein  had  made  that  delicious 
blunder  about  the  '  university  '  of  the  Exodus  instead  of  the  '  anni- 
versary,' and  I  went  about  laughing  over  it  in  all  the  best  circles, 


RAPHAEL  LEON.  855 

the  poor  man's  day  was  over.  And  when  we  came  to  London, 
and  seemed  to  fall  again  to  the  bottom  of  the  ladder  because  our 
greatness  was  swallowed  up  in  the  vastness,  didn't  you  despair 
then?  Didn't  you  tell  me  that  we  should  never  rise  to  the  sur- 
face ?  " 

'' It  didn't  seem  probable,  did  it?"  he  murmured  in  self-de- 
fence. 

"  Of  course  not.  That's  just  my  point.  Your  getting  into  the 
House  of  Commons  doesn't  seem  probable  now.  But  in  those 
days  your  getting  merely  to  know  M.  P.'s  was  equally  improb- 
able. The  synagogal  dignities  were  all  filled  up  by  old  hands, 
there  was  no  way  of  getting  on  the  Council  and  meeting  our 
magnates." 

"  Yes,  but  your  solution  of  that  difficulty  won't  do  here.  I  had 
not  much  difficulty  in  persuading  the  United  Synagogue  that  a 
new  synagogue  was  a  crying  want  in  Kensington,  but  I  could 
hardly  persuade  the  government  that  a  new  constituency  is  a 
crying  want  in  London."  He  spoke  pettishly ;  his  ambition 
always  required  rousing  and  was  easily  daunted. 

"No,  but  somebody's  going  to  start  a  new  something  else, 
Henry,"  said  Mrs.  Goldsmith  with  enigmatic  cheerfulness. 
"  Trust  in  me  ;  think  of  what  we  have  done  in  less  than  a  dozen 
years  at  comparatively  trifling  costs,  thanks  to  that  happy  idea  of 
a  new  synagogue — you  the  representative  of  the  Kensington 
synagogue,  with  a  '  Sir '  for  a  colleague  and  a  congregation  that 
from  exceptionally  small  beginnings  has  sprung  up  to  be  the 
most  fashionable  in  London  ;  likewise  a  member  of  the  Council 
of  the  Anglo-Jewish  Association  and  an  honorary  officer  of  the 
ShecJiitah  Board ;  I,  connected  with  several  first-class  charities, 
on  the  Committee  of  our  leading  school,  and  the  acknowledged 
discoverer  of  a  girl  who  gives  promise  of  doing  something  nota- 
ble in  literature  or  music.  We  have  a  reputation  for  wealth, 
culture  and  hospitality,  and  it  is  quite  two  years  since  we  shook 
off  the  last  of  the  Maida  Vale  lot,  who  are  so  graphically  painted 
in  that  novel  of  Mr.  Armitage's.  Who  are  our  guests  now? 
Take  to-night's !  A  celebrated  artist,  a  brilliant  young  Oxford 
man,  both  scions  of  the  same  wealthy  and  well-considered  fam- 


356  GRANDCHILDREN  OF  THE    GHETTO. 

ily,  an  authoress  of  repute  who  dedicates  her  books  (by  permis- 
sion) to  the  very  first  famiUes  of  the  community;  and  lastly  the 
Montagu  Samuels  with  the  brother,  Percy  Saville,  who  both  go 
only  to  the  best  houses.  Is  there  any  other  house,  where  the 
company  is  so  exclusively  Jewish,  that  could  boast  of  a  better 
gathering?" 

'■'•  I  don't  say  anything  against  the  company,"  said  her  hus- 
band awkwardly,  "  it's  better  than  we  got  in  the  Provinces.  But 
your  company  isn't  your  constituency.  What  constituency 
would  have  me?  " 

"Certainly,  no  ordinary  constituency  would  have  you,"  ad- 
mitted his  wife  frankly.     "  I  am  thinking  of  Whitechapel." 

"  But  Gideon  represents  Whitechapel." 

"  Certainly ;  as  Sidney  Graham  says,  he  represents  it  very 
well.  But  he  has  made  himself  unpopular,  his  name  has 
appeared  in  print  as  a  guest  at  City  banquets,  where  the  food 
can't  be  kosher.  He  has  alienated  a  goodly  proportion  of  the 
Jewish  vote." 

"Well?"  said  Mr.  Goldsmith,  still  wonderingly. 

"  Now  is  the  time  to  bid  for  his  shoes.  Raphael  Leon  is 
about  to  establish  a  new  Jewish  paper.  I  was  mistaken  about 
that  young  man.  You  remember  my  telling  you  I  had  heard  he 
was  eccentric  and  despite  his  brilliant  career  a  little  touched  on 
religious  matters.  I  naturally  supposed  his  case  was  like  that  of 
one  or  two  other  Jewish  young  men  we  know  and  that  he  yearned 
for  spirituality,  and  his  remarks  at  table  rather  confirmed  the 
impression.  But  he  is  worse  than  that — and  I  nearly  put  my 
foot  in  it  —  his  craziness  is  on  the  score  of  orthodo.xy!  Fancy 
that!  A  man  who  has  been  to  Harrow  and  O.xford  lonijing  for 
a  gaberdine  and  side  curls  I  Well,  well,  live  and  learn.  What  a 
sad  trial  for  his  parents! "     She  paused,  musing. 

"  But,  Rosetta,  what  has  Raphael  Leon  to  do  with  my  getting 
into  Parliament? " 

"  Don't  be  stupid.  Henry.  Haven't  I  explained  to  you  that 
Leon  is  going  to  start  an  orthodox  paper  which  will  be  circulated 
among  your  future  constituents.  It's  extremely  fortunate  that  we 
have  always  kept  our  religion.     We  have  a  widespread  reputation 


RAPHAEL   LEON.  357 

for  orthodoxy.  We  are  friends  with  Leon,  and  we  can  get  Esther 
to  write  for  the  paper  (I  could  see  he  was  rather  struck  by  her). 
Through  this  paper  we  can  keep  you  and  your  orthodoxy  con- 
stantly before  the  constituency.  The  poor  people  are  quite 
fascinated  by  the  idea  of  rich  Jews  like  us  keeping  a  strictly 
kosher  table;  but  the  image  of  a  Member  of  Parliament  with 
phylacteries  on  his  forehead  will  simply  intoxicate  them."  She 
smiled,  herself,  at  the  image ;  the  smile  that  always  intoxicated 
Percy  Saville. 

"  You're  a  wonderful  woman,  Rosetta,"  said  Henry,  smiling  in 
response  with  admiring  affection  and  making  his  incisors  more 
prominent.  He  drew  her  head  down  to  him  and  kissed  her  lips. 
She  returned  his  kiss  lingeringly  and  they  had  a  flash  of  that 
happiness  which  is  born  of  mutual  fidelity  arid  trust. 

"Can  I  do  anything  for  you,  mum,  afore  I  go  to  bed?"  said 
stout  old  Mary  O'Reilly,  appearing  at  the  door.  Mary  was  a 
privileged  person,  unappalled  even  by  the  butler.  Having  no 
relatives,  she  never  took  a  holiday  and  never  went  out  except  to 
Chapel. 

"  No,  Mary,  thank  you.  The  dinner  was  excellent.  Good 
night  and  merry  Christmas." 

"  Same  to  you,  mum,"  and  as  the  unconscious  instrument  of 
Henry  Goldsmith's  candidature  turned  away,  the  Christmas  bells 
broke  merrily  upon  the  night.  The  peals  fell  upon  the  ears  of 
Raphael  Leon,  still  striding  along,  casting  a  gaunt  shadow  on  the 
hoar-frosted  pavement,  but  he  marked  them  not ;  upon  Addie 
sitting  by  her  bedroom  mirror  thinking  of  Sidney  speeding  to 
the  Christmas  dance ;  upon  Esther  turning  restlessly  on  the 
luxurious  eider-down,  oppressed  by  panoramic  pictures  of  the 
martyrdom  of  her  race.  Lying  between  sleep  and  waking, 
especially  when  her  brain  had  been  excited,  she  had  the  faculty 
of  seeing  wonderful  vivid  visions,  indistinguishable  from  realities. 
The  martyrs  who  mounted  the  scaffold  and  the  stake  all  had  the 
face  of  Raphael. 

"The  mission  of  Israel"  buzzed  through  her  brain.  Oh,  the 
irony  of  history!  Here  was  another  life  going  to  be  wasted  on 
an  illusory  dream.     The  figures  of  Raphael  and  her  father  sud- 


358  GRANDCHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

denly  came  into  grotesque  juxtaposition.  A  bitter  smile  passed 
across  her  face. 

The  Christmas  bells  rang  on,  proclaiming  Peace  in  the  name 
of  Him  who  came  to  bring  a  sword  into  the  world. 

"  Surely,"  she  thought,  '•  the  people  of  Christ  has  been  the 
Christ  of  peoples."' 

And  then  she  sobbed  meaninglessly  in  the  darkness. 


CHAPTER   HI. 
"the  flag  of  judah." 

The  call  to  edit  the  new  Jewish  paper  seemed  to  Raphael  the 
voice  of  Providence.  It  came  just  when  he  was  hesitating  about 
his  future,  divided  between  the  attractions  of  the  ministry,  pure 
Hebrew  scholarship  and  philanthropy.  The  idea  of  a  paper  de- 
stroyed these  conflicting  claims  by  comprehending  them  all.  A 
paper  would  be  at  once  a  pulpit,  a  medium  for  organizing  effec- 
tive human  service,  and  an  incentive  to  serious  study  in  the 
preparation  of  scholarly  articles 

The  paper  was  to  be  the  property  of  the  Co-operative  Kosher 
Society,  an  association  originally  founded  to  supply  unimpeach- 
able Passover  cakes.  It  was  suspected  by  the  pious  that  there 
was  a  taint  of  heresy  in  the  flour  used  by  the  ordinary  bakers, 
and  it  was  remarked  that  the  Rabbinate  itself  imported  its  Mat- 
zoth  from  abroad.  Successful  in  its  first  object,  the  Co  operative 
Kosher  Society  extended  its  operations  to  more  perennial  com- 
modities, and  sought  to  save  Judaism  from  dubious  cheese  and 
butter,  as  well  as  to  provide  public  baths  for  women  in  accord- 
ance with  the  precepts  of  Leviticus.  But  these  ideals  were  not 
so  easy  to  achieve,  and  so  gradually  the  idea  of  a  paper  to  preach 
them  to  a  godless  age  formed  itself.  The  members  of  the  Soci- 
etv  met  in  Aaron  Schlesinsrer's  back  office  to  consider  them. 
Schlesinger  was  a  cigar  merchant,  and  the  discussions  of  the 
Society  were  invariably  obscured  by  gratuitous  smoke      Schle- 


''THE  FLAG    OF  JUDAH.''  359 

singer's  junior  partner,  Lewis  De  Haan,  wlio  also  had  a  separate 
business  as  a  surveyor,  was  the  soul  of  the  Society,  and  talked  a 
great  deal.  He  was  a  stalwart  old  man,  with  a  fine  imagination 
and  figure,  boundless  optimism,  a  big  biceps,  a  long  venerable 
white  beard,  a  keen  sense  of  humor,  and  a  versatility  which  en- 
abled him  to  turn  from  the  price  of  real  estate  to  the  elucidation 
of  a  Talmudical  difficult}-,  and  from  the  consignment  of  cigars  to 
the  organization  of  apostolic  movements.  Among  the  leading 
spirits  were  our  old  friends,  Karlkammer  the  red-haired  zealot, 
Sugarman  the  Shadchan,  and  Guedalyah  the  greengrocer,  to- 
gether with  Gradkoski  the  scholar,  fancy  goods  merchant  and 
man  of  the  world.  A  furniture-dealer,  who  was  always  failing, 
was  also  an  important  personage,  while  Ebenezer  Sugarman,  a 
young  man  who  had  once  translated  a  romance  from  the  Dutch, 
acted  as  secretary.  Melchitsedek  Pinchas  invariably  turned  up 
at  the  meetings  and  smoked  Schlesinger's  cigars.  He  was  not 
a  member ;  he  had  not  qualified  himself  by  taking  ten  pound 
shares  (far  from  fully  paid  up),  but  nobody  liked  to  eject  him, 
and  no  hint  less  strong  than  a  physical  would  have  moved  the 
poet. 

All  the  members  of  the  Council  of  the  Co-operative  Kosher 
Society  spoke  English  volubly  and  more  or  less  grammatically, 
but  none  had  sufficient  confidence  in  the  others  to  propose 
one  of  them  for  editor,  though  it  is  possible  that  none  would 
have  shrunk  from  having  a  shot.  Diffidence  is  not  a  mark  of  the 
Jew.  The  claims  of  Ebenezer  Sugarman  and  of  Melchitsedek 
Pinchas  were  put  forth  most  vehemently  by  Ebenezer  and  Mel- 
chitsedek respectively,  and  their  mutual  accusations  of  incompe- 
tence enlivened  Mr.  Schlesingers  back  office. 

"  He  ain't  able  to  spell  the  commonest  English  words,"  said 
Ebenezer,  with  a  contemptuous  guffaw  that  sounded  like  the 
croak  of  a  raven. 

The  young  litterateur,  the  sumptuousness  of  whose  Barinitzvah- 
party  was  still  a  memory  with  his  father,  had  lank  black  hair, 
with  a  long  nose  that  supported  blue  spectacles. 

"What  does  he  know  of  the  Holy  Tongue?"  croaked  Mel- 
chitsedek witheringly,  adding  in  a  confidential  whisper  to  the 


360  GRANDCHILDREN   OF   THE    GHETTO. 

cigar  merchant :  "  I  and  you,  Schlesinger,  are  the  only  two  men 
in  England  who  can  write  the  Holy  Tongue  grammatically.'" 

The  little  poet  was  as  insinuative  and  volcanic  (by  turns)  as 
ever.  His  beard  was,  however,  better  trimmed  and  his  complex- 
ion healthier,  and  he  looked  younger  than  ten  years  ago.  His 
clothes  were  quite  spruce.  For  several  years  he  had  travelled 
about  the  Continent,  mainly  at  Raphael's  expense.  He  said  his 
ideas  came  better  in  touring  and  at  a  distance  from  the  unappre- 
ciative  English  Jewry.  It  was  a  pity,  for  with  his  linguistic  genius 
his  English  would  have  been  immaculate  by  this  time.  As  it 
was,  there  was  a  considerable  improvement  in  his  writing,  if  not 
so  much  in  his  accent. 

"What  do  I  know  of  the  Holy  Tongue!"  repeated  Ebenezer 
scornfully.     "Hold  yours!" 

The  Committee  laughed,  but  Schlesinger,  who  was  a  serious 
man,  said,  "  Business,  gentlemen,  business." 

"Come,  then!  Til  challenge  you  to  translate  a  page  of  Meta- 
torofi's  Flames,''  said  Pinchas,  skipping  about  the  office  like  a 
sprightly  flea.  "  You  know  no  more  than  the  Reverend  Joseph 
Strelitski  vith  his  vite  tie  and  his  princely  income." 

De  Haan  seized  the  poet  by  the  collar,  swung  him  off  his  feet 
and  tucked  him  up  in  the  coal-scuttle. 

"Yah!"  croaked  Ebenezer.  "Here's  a  fine  editor.  Ho! 
Ho!  Ho!" 

"We  cannot  have  either  of  them.  It's  the  only  way  to  keep 
them  quiet,"  said  the  furniture-dealer  who  was  always  failing. 

Ebenezers  face  fell  and  his  voice  rose. 

"  I  don't  see  why  I  should  be  sacrificed  to  V;//.  There  ain't  a 
man  in  England  who  can  write  English  better  than  me.  Why, 
everybody  says  so.  Look  at  the  success  of  my  book,  77ie  Old 
Burgoviaster,  the  best  Dutch  novel  ever  written.  The  St.  Pan- 
eras  Press  said  it  reminded  them  of  Lord  Lytton,  it  did  indeed. 
I  can  show  you  the  paper.  I  can  give  you  one  each  if  you  like. 
And  then  it  ain't  as  if  I  didn't  know  'Ebrew,  too.  Even  if  I  was 
in  doubt  about  anything,  I  could  always  go  to  my  father.  You 
give  me  this  paper  to  manage  and  I'll  make  your  fortunes  for  you 
in  a  twelvemonth ;  I  will  as  sure  as  I  stand  here." 


«  THE  FLA  G    OF  JUDAH.  »  361 

Pinchas  had  made  spluttering  interruptions  as  frequently  as 
he  could  in  resistance  of  De  Haan's  brawny,  hairy  hand  which 
was  pressed  against  his  nose  and  mouth  to  keep  him  down  in 
the  coal-scuttle,  but  now  he  exploded  with  a  force  that  shook  off 
the  hand  like  a  bottle  of  soda  water  expelling  its  cork. 

"  You  Man-of-the-Earth,"  he  cried,  sitting  up  in  the  coal- 
scuttle. "  You  are  not  even  orthodox.  Here,  my  dear  gentle- 
men, is  the  very  position  created  by  Heaven  for  me  —  in  this 
disgraceful  country  vhere  genius  starves.  Here  at  last  you  have 
the  opportunity  of  covering  yourselves  vid  eternal  glory.  Have 
I  not  given  you  the  idea  of  starting  this  paper?  And  vas  I  not 
born  to  be  a  Redacteur,  a  Editor,  as  you  call  it?  Into  the  paper 
I  vill  pour  all  the  fires  of  my  song  —  " 

"  Yes,  burn  it  up,"  croaked  Ebenezer. 

"  I  vill  lead  the  Freethinkers  and  the  Reformers  back  into  the 
fold.  I  vill  be  Elijah  and  my  vings  shall  be  quill  pens.  I  vill 
save  Judaism."  He  started  up,  swelling,  but  De  Haan  caught 
him  by  his  waistcoat  and  readjusted  him  in  the  coal-scuttle. 

"  Here,  take  another  cigar,  Pinchas,"  he  said,  passing  Schle- 
singer's  private  box,  as  if  with  a  twinge  of  remorse  for  his  treat- 
ment of  one  he  admired  as  a  poet  though  he  could  not  take  him 
seriously  as  a  man. 

The  discussion  proceeded ;  the  furniture-dealer's  counsel  was 
followed ;  it  was  definitely  decided  to  let  the  two  candidates 
neutralize  each  other. 

"Vat  vill  you  give  me,  if  I  find  you  a  Redacteur?"  suddenly 
asked  Pinchas.     "  1  give  up  my  editorial  seat  —  " 

"  Editorial  coal-scuttle,"  growled  Ebenezer. 

"Pooh!  I  find  you  a  first-class  Redacteur  who  vill  not  want 
a  big  salary;  perhaps  he  vill  do  it  for  nothing.  How  much 
commission  vill  you  give  me  ?  " 

"  Ten  shillings  on  every  pound  if  he  does  not  want  a  big 
salary,"  said  De  Haan  instantly,  "  and  twelve  and  sixpence  on 
every  pound  if  he  does  it  for  nothing." 

And  Pinchas,  who  was  easily  bamboozled  when  finance  became 
complex,  went  out  to  find  Raphael. 

Thus  at  the  next  meeting  the  poet  produced  Raphael  in  tri- 


362  GRANDCHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

umph,  and  Gradkoski,  who  loved  a  reputation  for  sagacity,  turned 
a  little  green  with  disgust  at  his  own  forgetfulness.  Gradkoski 
was  among  those  founders  of  the  Holy  Land  League  with  whom 
Raphael  had  kept  up  relations,  and  he  could  not  deny  that  the 
young  enthusiast  was  the  ideal  man  for  the  post.  De  Haan, 
who  was  busy  directing  the  clerks  to  write  out  ten  thousand 
wrappers  for  the  first  number,  and  who  had  never  heard  of 
Raphael  before,  held  a  whispered  confabulation  with  Gradkoski 
and  Schlesinger  and  in  a  few  moments  Raphael  was  rescued 
from  obscurity  and  appointed  to  the  editorship  of  the  Flag  of 
Jjidah  at  a  salary  of  nothing  a  year.  De  Haan  immediately 
conceived  a  vast  contemptuous  admiration  of  the  man. 

"  You  von't  forget  me,"  whispered  Pinchas,  buttonholing  the 
editor  at  the  first  opportunity,  and  placing  his  forefinger  insinu- 
atingly alongside  his  nose.  "  You  vill  remember  that  I  expect  a 
commission  on  your  salary." 

Raphael  smiled  good-naturedly  and,  turning  to  De  Haan,  said  : 
"  But  do  you  think  there  is  any  hope  of  a  circulation?  " 

"  A  circulation,  sir,  a  circulation !  "  repeated  De  Haan.  "  Why, 
we  shall  not  be  able  to  print  fast  enough.  There  are  seventy 
thousand  orthodox  Jews  in  London  alone."" 

''  And  besides,"^  added  Gradkoski,  in  a  corroboration  strongly 
like  a  contradiction,  "  we  shall  not  have  to  rely  on  the  circulation. 
Newspapers  depend  on  their  advertisements." 

"Do  they?"  said  Raphael,  helplessly. 

"Of  course,"  said  Gradkoski  with  his  air  of  worldly  wisdom. 
"  And  don't  you  see,  being  a  religious  paper  we  are  bound  to  get 
all  the  communal  advertisements.  Why,  we  get  the  Co-opera- 
tive Kosher  Society  to  start  with." 

"  Yes,  but  we  ain't  going  to  pay  for  that,"  said  Sugarman  the 
Shade] I  an . 

"That  doesn't  matter,"  said  De  Haan.  "  It'll  look  well  —  we 
can  fill  up  a  wdiole  page  with  it.  You  know  what  Jews  are  — 
they  won't  ask  '  is  this  paper  wanted?'  they'll  balance  it  in  their 
hand,  as  if  weighing  up  the  value  of  the  advertisements,  and  ask 
'  does  it  pay? '  But  it  w/7/  pay,  it  must  pay  ;  with  you  at  the  head 
of  it,  Mr.  Leon,  a  man  whose  fame  and  piety  are  known  and  re- 


''THE  FLAG    OF  JUDAHr  363 

spected  wherever  a  MezuzaJi  adorns  a  door-post,  a  man  who  is  in 
sympathy  with  the  East  End,  and  has  the  ear  of  the  West,  a  man 
who  will  preach  the  purest  Judaism  in  the  best  English,  with 
such  a  man  at  the  head  of  it,  we  shall  be  able  to  ask  bigger 
prices  for  advertisements  than  the  existing  Jewish  papers." 

Raphael  left  the  office  in  a  transport  of  enthusiasm,  full  of 
Messianic  emotions.  At  the  next  meeting  he  announced  that 
he  was  afraid  he  could  not  undertake  the  charge  of  the  paper. 
Amid  universal  consternation,  tempered  by  the  exultation  of 
Ebenezer,  he  explained  that  he  had  been  thinking  it  over  and 
did  not  see  how  it  could  be  done.  He  said  he  had  been  care- 
fully studying  the  existing  communal  organs,  and  saw  that  they 
dealt  with  many  matters  of  which  he  knew  nothing;  whilst  he 
might  be  competent  to  form  the  taste  of  the  community  in  relig- 
ious and  literary  matters,  it  appeared  that  the  community  was 
chiefly  excited  about  elections  and  charities.  "  Moreover,"  said 
he,  "  I  noticed  that  it  is  expected  of  these  papers  to  publish 
obituaries  of  communal  celebrities,  for  whose  biographies  no 
adequate  materials  are  anywhere  extant.  It  would  scarcely  be 
decent  to  obtrude  upon  the  sacred  grief  of  the  bereaved  relatives 
with  a  request  for  particulars." 

"Oh,  that's  all  right,"  laughed  De  Haan.  "  Fm  sure  my  wife 
would  be  glad  to  give  you  any  information." 

"  Of  course,  of  course,"  said  Gradkoski,  soothingly.  "  You  will 
get  the  obituaries  sent  in  of  themselves  by  the  relatives." 

Raphael's  brow  expressed  surprise  and  incredulity. 

'•And  besides,  we  are  not  going  to  crack  up  the  same  people 
as  the  other  papers,"  said  De  Haan ;  "  otherwise  we  should  not 
supply  a  want.  We  must  dole  out  our  praise  and  blame  quite 
differently,  and  w^e  must  be  very  scrupulous  to  give  only  a  little 
praise  so  that  it  shall  be  valued  the  more."  He  stroked  his 
white  beard  tranquilly. 

"But  how  about  meetings?"  urged  Raphael.  "I  find  that 
sometimes  two  take  place  at  once.  I  can  go  to  one,  but  I  can't 
be  at  both." 

'•Oh,  that  will  be  all  right,"  said  De  Haan  airily.  "We  will 
leave  out  one  and  people  will  think  it  is  unimportant.     We  are 


364  GRANDCHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

bringing  out  a  paper  for  our  own  ends,  not  to  report  the  speeches 
of  busybodies.'" 

Raphael  was  already  exhibiting  a  conscientiousness  which 
must  be  nipped  in  the  bud.  Seeing  him  silenced,  Ebenezer 
burst  forth  anxiously : 

"  But  Mr.  Leon  is  right.     There  must  be  a  sub-editor." 

"  Certainly  there  must  be  a  sub-editor/'  cried  Pinchas  eagerly. 

"  Very  well,  then,"  said  De  Haan,  struck  with  a  sudden 
thought.  "  It  is  true  Mr.  Leon  cannot  do  all  the  work.  I  know 
a  young  fellow  who'll  be  just  the  very  thing.  He'll  come  for  a 
pound  a  week." 

"  But  ril  come  for  a  pound  a  week,"  said  Ebenezer. 

"  Yes,  but  you  won't  get  it."  said  Schlesinger  impatiently. 

^^  S/ia,  Ebenezer,"  said  old  Sugarman  imperiously. 

De  Haan  thereupon  hunted  up  a  young  gentleman,  who  dwelt 
in  his  mind  as  "  Little  Sampson,"  and  straightway  secured  him 
at  the  price  named.  He  was  a  lively  young  Bohemian  born  in 
Australia,  who  had  served  an  apprenticeship  on  the  Anglo- 
Jewish  press,  worked  his  way  up  into  the  larger  journalistic 
world  without,  and  was  now  engaged  in  organizing  a  comic- 
opera  touring  company,  and  in  drifting  back  again  into  Jewish 
journalism.  This  young  gentleman,  who  always  wore  long  curl- 
ing locks,  an  eye-glass  and  a  romantic  cloak  which  covered  a 
multitude  of  shabbinesses,  fully  allayed  Raphael's  fears  as  to  the 
difficulties  of  editorship. 

"  Obituaries!"  he  said  scornfully.  ^'  You  rely  on  me  for  that! 
The  people  who  are  worth  chronicling  are  sure  to  have  lived  in 
the  back  numbers  of  our  contemporaries,  and  I  can  always  hunt 
them  up  in  tlie  Museum.  As  for  the  people  who  are  not,  their 
families  will  send  them  in,  and  your  only  trouble  will  be  to  con- 
ciliate the  families  of  those  you  ignore." 

"But  about  all  those  meetings?"  said  Raphael. 

"Fll  go  to  some,"  said  the  sub-editor  good-naturedly,  "when- 
ever they  don't  interfere  with  the  rehearsals  of  my  opera.  You 
know  of  course  I  am  bringing  out  a  comic-opera,  composed  by 
myself,  some  lovely  tunes  in  it ;  one  goes  like  this :  Ta  ra  ra  ta, 
ta  dee  dum  dee  —  that'll  knock  'em.     Well,  as  I  was  saying,  I'll 


''THE  FLAG    OF  JUDAHr  365 

help  you  as  much  as  I  can  find  time  for.  You  rely  on  me  for 
that." 

"  Yes/'  said  poor  Raphael  with  a  sickly  smile,  "  but  suppose 
neither  of  us  goes  to  some  important  meeting." 

"No  harm  done.  God  bless  you,  I  know  the  styles  of  all  our 
chief  speakers  —  ahem  —  ha!  —  pauperization  of  the  East  End, 
ha!  —  I  would  emphatically  say  that  this  scheme  —  ahem!  —  his 
lordship's  untiring  zeal  for  hum!  —  the  welfare  of — and  so  on. 
Ta  dee  dum  da,  ta,  ra,  rum  dee.  They  always  send  on  the 
agenda  beforehand.  That's  all  I  want,  and  Fll  lay  you  twenty 
to  one  I'll  turn  out  as  good  a  report  as  any  of  our  rivals.  You 
rely  on  me  for  that !  I  know  exactly  how  debates  go.  At  the 
worst  I  can  always  swop  with  another  reporter  —  a  prize  dis- 
tribution for  an  obituary,  or  a  funeral  for  a  concert." 

"And  do  you  really  think  we  two  between  us  can  fill  up  the 
paper  every  week?"  said  Raphael  doubtfully. 

Little  Sampson  broke  into  a  shriek  of  laugliter,  dropped  his 
eyeglass  and  collapsed  helplessly  into  the  coal-scuttle.  The 
Committeemen  looked  up  from  their  confabulations  in  astonish- 
ment. 

"Fill  up  the  paper!  Ho!  Ho!  Ho!"  roared  little  Sampson, 
still  doubled  up.  "  Evidently  yoii've  never  had  anything  to  do 
with  papers.  Why.  the  reports  of  London  and  provincial  ser- 
mons alone  would  fill  three  papers  a  week." 

"Yes,  but  how  are  we  to  get  these  reports,  especially  from  the 
provinces?  " 

"How?  Ho!  Ho!  Ho!"  And  for  some  time  little  Sampson 
was  physically  incapable  of  speech.  "Don't  you  know,"  he 
gasped,  "that  the  ministers  always  send  up  their  own  sermons, 
pages  upon  pages  of  foolscap  ? " 

"Indeed? "  murmured  Raphael. 

"What,  haven't  you  noticed  all  Jewish  sermons  are  eloquent?" 

"  They  write  that  themselves?" 

"Of  course;  sometimes  they  put  'able,'  and  sometimes 
'  learned,'  but,  as  a  rule,  they  prefer  to  be  '  eloquent.'  The 
nm  on  that  epithet  is  tremendous.  Ta  dee  dum  da.  In  holi- 
day seasons  they  are  also  very  fond  of  '  enthralling  the  audience,' 


366  GRANDCHILDREN   OF   THE    GHETTO: 

and  of  '■  melting  them  to  tears/  but  this  is  chiefly  during  the  Ten 
Days  of  Repentance,  or  when  a  boy  is  Bannitzvah.  Then,  think 
of  the  people  who  send  in  accounts  of  the  oranges  they  gave 
away  to  distressed  widows,  or  of  the  prizes  won  by  their  children 
at  fourth-rate  schools,  or  of  the  silver  pointers  they  present  to 
the  synagogue.  Whenever  a  reader  sends  a  letter  to  an  evening 
paper,  he  will  want  you  to  quote  it ;  and,  if  he  writes  a  paragraph 
in  the  obscurest  leaflet,  he  will  want  you  to  note  it  as  ^  Literary 
Intelligence.''  Why,  my  dear  fellow,  your  chief  task  will  be  to 
cut  down.  Ta,  ra,  ra,  ta!  Any  Jewish  paper  could  be  entirely 
supported  by  voluntary  contributions  —  as,  for  the  matter  of  that, 
could  any  newspaper  in  the  world."  He  got  up  and  shook  the 
coal-dust  languidly  from  his  cloak. 

"  Besides,  we  shall  all  be  helping  you  with  articles,'^  said  De 
Haan,  encouragingly. 

"  Yes,  we  shall  all  be  helping  you,"  said  Ebenezer. 

"  I  vill  give  you  from  the  Pierian  spring  —  bucketsful,"  said 
Pinchas  in  a  flush  of  generosity. 

"  Thank  you,  I  shall  be  m.uch  obliged,"  said  Raphael,  heartily,, 
"  for  I  don't  quite  see  the  use  of  a  paper  filled  up  as  Mr.  Sampson 
suggests."  He  flung  his  arms  out  and  drew  them  in  again.  It 
was  a  way  he  had  when  in  earnest.  ''  Then,  I  should  like  to 
have  some  foreign  news.     Where's  that  to  come  from?" 

"  You  rely  on  me  for  that^  said  little  Sampson,  cheerfully.  "  I 
will  write  at  once  to  all  the  chief  Jewish  papers  in  the  world, 
French,  German,  Dutch,  Italian,  Hebrew,  and  American,  asking 
them  to  exchange  with  us.  There  is  never  any  dearth  of  foreign 
news.  I  translate  a  thing  from  the  Italian  Vessillo  Israelitico^ 
and  the  Israelitische  Nieuwsbode  copies  it  from  us  ;  Der  Israelii 
then  translates  it  into  German,  whence  it  gets  into  Hebrew,  in 
Hamagid,  thence  into  DUnivers  Israelite^  of  Paris,  and  thence 
into  the  American  Hebrew.  When  I  see  it  in  American,  not 
having  to  translate  it,  it  strikes  me  as  fresh,  and  so  I  transfer  it 
bodily  to  our  columns,  whence  it  gets  translated  into  Italian,  and 
so  the  merry-go-round  goes  eternally  on.  Ta  dee  rum  day.  You 
relv  on  me  for  your  foreign  news.  Why,  I  can  get  you  foreign 
telegrams  if  you'll  only  allow  me  to   stick  '  Trieste,  December 


''THE  FLAG    OF  JUDAH:'  367 

21,'  or  things  of  that  sort  at  the  top.  Ti,  turn,  tee  ti.''  He  went 
on  humming  a  sprightly  air,  then,  suddenly  interrupting  himself, 
he  said,  "  but  have  you  got  an  advertisement  canvasser,  Mr.  De 
Haan?'' 

"No,  not  yet,"  said  De  Haan,  turning  around.  The  committee 
had  resolved  itself  into  animated  groups,  dotted  about  the  office, 
each  group  marked  by  a  smoke-drift.  The  clerks  were  still  writ- 
ing the  ten  thousand  wrappers,  sw'earing  inaudibly. 

"  Well,  when  are  you  going  to  get  him  ?  " 

"  Oh,  we  shall  have  advertisements  rolling  in  of  themselves," 
said  De  Haan,  with  a  magnificent  sweep  of  the  arm.  '•'  And  we 
shall  all  assist  in  that  department!  Help  yourself  to  another 
cigar,  Sampson."  And  he  passed  Schlesinger's  box.  Raphael 
and  Karlkammer  were  the  only  two  men  in  the  room  not  smok- 
ing cigars  —  Raphael,  because  he  preferred  his  pipe,  and  Karl- 
kammer for  some  more  mystic  reason. 

"  We  must  not  ignore  Cabalah,"  the  zealot's  voice  was  heard 
to  observe. 

'•  You  can't  get  advertisements  by  Cabalah,"  drily  interrupted 
Guedalyah,  the  greengrocer,  a  practical  man,  as  everybody  knew. 

"No,  indeed,"  protested  Sampson.  "  The  advertisement  can- 
vasser is  a  more  important  man  than  the  editor." 

Ebenezer  pricked  up  his  ears. 

"  I  thought  you  undertook  to  do  some  canvassing  for  your 
money,"  said  De  Haan. 

"  So  I  will,  so  I  will ;  rely  on  me  for  that.  I  shouldn't  be  sur- 
prised if  I  get  the  capitalists  who  are  backing  up  my  opera  to 
give  you  the  advertisements  of  the  tour,  and  I'll  do  all  I  can  in 
my  spare  time.  But  I  feel  sure  youll  want  another  man  —  only, 
you  must  pay  him  well  and  give  him  a  good  commission.  It'll 
pay  best  in  the  long  run  to  have  a  good  man,  there  are  so  many 
seedy  duffers  about,"  said  little  Sampson,  drawing  his  faded  cloak 
loftily  around  him.  "  You  want  an  eloquent,  persuasive  man, 
with  a  gift  of  the  gab  —  " 

"  Didn't  I  tell  you  so  ? "  interrupted  Pinchas,  putting  his  finger 
to  his  nose.  "  I  vill  go  to  the  advertisers  and  speak  burning 
words  to  them.     I  vill  —  " 


368  GRANDCHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

^'Garn!  They'd  kick  you  out! ""  croaked  Ebenezer.  "  They'll 
only  listen  to  an  Englishman."  His  coarse-featured  face  glis- 
tened witli  spite. 

"  My  Ebenezer  has  a  good  appearance,"  said  old  Sugarman, 
"and  his  English  is  fine,  and  dat  is  half  de  battle." 

Schlesinger,  appealed  to,  intimated  that  Ebenezer  might  try, 
but  that  they  could  not  well  spare  him  any  percentage  at  the 
start.  After  much  haggling,  Ebenezer  consented  to  waive  his 
commission,  if  the  committee  would  consent  to  allow  an  original 
tale  of  his  to  appear  in  the  paper. 

The  stipulation  having  been  agreed  to,  he  capered  joyously 
about  the  office  and  winked  periodically  at  Pinchas  from  behind 
the  battery  of  his  blue  spectacles.  The  poet  was,  however,  rapt 
in  a  discussion  as  to  the  best  printer.  The  Committee  were 
for  having  Gluck,  who  had  done  odd  jobs  for  most  of  them, 
but  Pinchas  launched  into  a  narrative  of  how,  when  he  edited  a 
great  organ  in  Buda-Pesth,  he  had  effected  vast  economies  by 
starting  a  little  printing-office  ofhis  own  in  connection  with  the 
paper. 

"You  vill  set  up  a  little  establishment,"  he  said.  "I  vill 
manage  it  for  a  few  pounds  a  veek.  Then  I  vill  not  only  print 
your  paper,  I  vill  get  you  large  profits  from  extra  printing.  Vith 
a  man  of  great  business  talent  at  the  head  of  it  —  " 

De  Haan  made  a  threatening  movement,  and  Pinchas  edged 
away  from  the  proximity  of  the  coal-scuttle. 

"  Cluck's  our  printer!  "  said  De  Haan  peremptorily.  "  He  has 
Hebrew  type.  We  shall  want  a  lot  of  that.  We  must  have  a  lot 
of  Hebrew  quotations  —  not  spell  Hebrew  words  in  English  like 
the  other  papers.  And  the  Hebrew  date  must  come  before  the 
English.  The  public  must  see  at  once  that  our  principles  are 
superior.  Besides,  Cluck's  a  Jew,  which  will  save  us  from  the 
danger  of  having  any  of  the  printing  done  on  Saturdays." 

"  But  shan't  we  want  a  publisher?"  asked  Sampson. 

"  That's  vat  I  say,"  cried  Pinchas.  "  If  I  set  up  this  office, 
I  can  be  your  publisher  too.  Ve  must  do  things  business- 
like '' 

••Nonsense,  nonsense!     We  are  our  own  publishers,"  said  De 


''THE   FLAG    OF  JUDAH.''  369 

Haaii.  "Our  clerks  will  send  out  the  invoices  and  the  subscrip- 
tion copies,  and  an  extra  office-boy  can  sell  the  papers  across 
the  counter." 

Sampson  smiled  in  his  sleeve. 

"All  right.  That  will  do — for  the  first  number,"  he  said 
cordially.     "  Ta  ra  ra  ta." 

"  Now  then,  Mr.  Leon,  everything  is  settled,"  said  De  Haan, 
stroking  his  beard  briskly.  "  I  think  I'll  ask  you  to  help  us 
to  draw  up  the  posters.  We  shall  cover  all  London,  sir,  all 
London." 

"But  wouldn't  that  be  wasting  money? "  said  Raphael. 

"  Oh,  we're  going  to  do  the  thing  properly.  I  don't  believe 
in  meanness." 

"  It'll  be  enough  if  we  cover  the  East  End,"  said  Schlesinger, 
drily. 

"  Quite  so.  The  East  End  is  London  as  far  as  we're  con- 
cerned," said  De  Haan  readily. 

Raphael  took  the  pen  and  the  paper  which  De  Haan  tendered 
him  and  wrote  The  Flag  of  Judah^  the  title  having  been  fixed  at 
their  first  interview. 

"The  only  orthodox  paper!  "  dictated  De  Haan.  "Largest 
circulation  of  any  Jewish  paper  in  the  world!  " 

"  No,  how  can  we  say  that? "  said  Raphael,  pausing. 

"No,  of  course  not,"  said  De  Haan.  "I  was  thinking  of  the 
subsequent  posters.  Look  out  for  the  first  number —  on  Friday, 
January  ist.  The  best  Jewish  writers!  The  truest  Jewish  teach- 
ings! Latent  Jewish  news  and  finest  Jewish  stories.  Every 
Friday.     Twopence." 

"Twopence?"  echoed  Raphael,  looking  up.  "I  thought  you 
wanted  to  appeal  to  the  masses.  I  should  say  it  must  be  a 
penny." 

"  It  will  be  a  penny,"  said  De  Haan  oracularly. 

"We  have  thought  it  all  over,"  interposed  Gradkoski.  "The 
first  number  will  be  bought  up  out  of  curiosity,  whether  at  a 
penny  or  at  twopence.  The  second  will  go  almost  as  well,  for 
people  will  be  anxious  to  see  how  it  compares  with  the  first. 
In  that  number  we  shall  announce  that  owing  to  the  enormous 

2B 


370  GRANDCHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

success  we  have  been  able  to  reduce  it  to  a  penny ;  meantime 
we  make  all  the  extra  pennies." 

"  I  see/'  said  Raphael  dubiously. 

"We  must  have  Chochma,^''  said  De  Haan.  "Our  sages 
recommend  that.''' 

Raphael  still  had  his  doubts,  but  he  had  also  a  painful  sense 
of  his  lack  of  the  '■'■  practical  wisdom  "  recommended  by  the 
sages  cited.  He  thought  these  men  were  probably  in  the  right. 
Even  religion  could  not  be  pushed  on  the  masses  without  busi- 
ness methods,  and  so  long  as  they  were  in  earnest  about  the 
doctrines  to  be  preached,  he  could  even  feel  a  dim  admiration 
for  their  superior  shrewdness  in  executing  a  task  in  which  he 
himself  would  have  hopelessly  broken  down.  Raphael's  mind 
was  large ;  and  larger  by  being  conscious  of  its  cloistral  limita- 
tions. And  the  men  were  in  earnest ;  not  even  their  most 
intimate  friends  could  call  this  into  question. 

"  We  are  going  to  save  London,"  De  Haan  put  it  in  one  of 
his  dithyrambic  moments.  "  Orthodoxy  has  too  long  been 
voiceless,  and  yet  it  is  five-sixths  of  Judaea.  A  small  minority 
has  had  all  the  say.  We  must  redress  the  balance.  We  must 
plead  the  cause  of  the  People  against  the  Few."' 

Raphael's  breast  throbbed  with  similar  hopes.  His  Messianic 
emotions  resurged.  Sugarman's  solicitous  request  that  he  should 
buy  a  Hamburg  Lottery  Ticket  scarcely  penetrated  his  conscious- 
ness. Carrying  the  copy  of  the  poster,  he  accompanied  De 
Haan  to  Gluck's.  It  was  a  small  shop  in  a  back  street  with  jar- 
gon-papers and  hand-bills  in  the  window  and  a  pervasive  heavy 
oleaginous  odor.  A  hand-press  occupied  the  centre  of  the  inte- 
rior, the  back  of  which  was  partitioned  off  and  marked  "  Private." 
Gluck  came  forward,  grinning  welcome.  He  wore  an  unkempt 
beard  and  a  dusky  apron. 

"Can  you  undertake  to  print  an  eight-page  paper?"  inquired 
De  Haan. 

'•  If  I  can  print  at  all,  I  can  print  anything,"  responded  Gluck 
reproachfully.     "  How  many  shall  you  want?  " 

"It's  the  orthodox  paper  we've  been  planning  so  long,"  said 
De  Haan  evasively. 


''THE  FLAG    OF  JUDAH:'  371 

Gluck  nodded  his  head. 

"  There  are  seventy  thousand  orthodox  Jews  in  London  alone/' 
said  De  Haan,  with  rotund  enunciation.  '•'  So  you  see  what  you 
may  have  to  print.  ItUl  be  worth  your  while  to  do  it  extra 
cheap.'" 

Gluck  agreed  readily,  naming  a  low  figure.  After  half  an 
hour's  discussion  it  was  reduced  by  ten  per  cent. 

"Good-bye,  then,"  said  De  Haan.  "So  let  it  stand.  We 
shall  start  with  a  thousand  copies  of  the  first  number,  but  where 
we  shall  end,  the  Holy  One,  blessed  be  He,  alone  knows.  I  will 
now  leave  you  and  the  editor  to  talk  over  the  rest.  To-day's 
Monday.  We  must  have  the  first  number  out  by  Friday  week. 
Can  you  do  that,  Mr.  Leon?" 

"  Oh,  that  will  be  ample,"  said  Raphael,  shooting  out  his  arms. 

He  did  not  remain  of  that  opinion.  Never  had  he  gone 
through  such  an  awful,  anxious  time,  not  even  in  his  prepara- 
tions for  the  stififest  exams.  He  worked  sixteen  hours  a  day  at 
the  paper.  The  only  evening  he  allowed  himself  off  was  when 
he  dined  with  Mrs.  Henry  Goldsmith  and  met  Esther.  First 
numbers  invariably  take  twice  as  long  to  produce  as  second  num- 
bers, even  in  the  best  regulated  establishments.  All  sorts  of 
mysterious  sticks  and  leads,  and  fonts  and  forms,  are  found 
wanting  at  the  eleventh  hour.  As  a  substitute  for  gray  hair-dye 
there  is  nothing  in  the  market  to  compete  with  the  production  of 
first  numbers.  But  in  Gluck's  establishment,  these  difficulties 
were  multiplied  by  a  hundred.  Gluck  spent  a  great  deal  of  time 
in  going  round  the  corner  to  get  something  from  a  brother 
printer.  It  took  an  enormous  time  to  get  a  proof  of  any  article 
out  of  Gluck. 

"  My  men  are  so  careful,"  Gluck  explained.  "  They  don't  like 
to  pass  anything  till  ifs  free  from  typos." 

The  men  must  have  been  highly  disappointed,  for  the  proofs 
were  invariably  returned  bristling  with  corrections  and  having  a 
highly  hieroglyphic  appearance.  Then  Gluck  would  go  in  and 
slang  his  men.  He  kept  them  behind  the  partition  painted 
"  Private." 

The  fatal  Friday  drew  nearer  and  nearer.     By  Thursday  not  a 


372  GRANDCHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

single  page  had  been  made  up.  Still  Gluck  pointed  out  that 
there  were  only  eight,  and  the  day  was  long.  Raphael  had  not 
the  least  idea  in  the  world  how  to  make  up  a  paper,  but  about 
eleven  little  Sampson  kindly  strolled  into  Gluck's,  and  explained 
to  his  editor  his  own  method  of  pasting  the  proofs  on  sheets  of 
paper  of  the  size  of  the  pages.  He  even  made  up  one  page  him- 
self to  a  blithe  vocal  accompaniment. .  When  the  busy  composer 
and  acting-manager  hurried  off  to  conduct  a  rehearsal,  Raphael 
expressed  his  gratitude  warmly.  The  hours  flew ;  the  paper 
evolved  as  by  geologic  stages.  As  the  fateful  day  wore  on, 
Gluck  was  scarcely  visible  for  a  moment.  Raphael  was  left 
alone  eating  his  heart  out  in  the  shop,  and  solacing  himself  with 
huge  whiffs  of  smoke.  At  immense  intervals  Gluck  appeared 
from  behind  the  partition  bearing  a  page  or  a  galley  slip.  He 
said  his  men  could  not  be  trusted  to  do  their  work  unless  he  was 
present.  Raphael  replied  that  he  had  not  seen  the  compositors 
come  through  the  shop  to  get  their  dinners,  and  he  hoped  Gluck 
would  not  find  it  necessary  to  cut  off  their  meal-times.  Gluck 
reassured  him  on  this  point ;  he  said  his  men  were  so  loyal  that 
they  preferred  to  bring  their  food  with  them  rather  than  have  the 
paper  delayed.  Later  on  he  casually  mentioned  that  there  was 
a  back  entrance.  He  would  not  allow  Raphael  to  talk  to  his 
workmen  personally,  arguing  that  it  spoiled  their  discipline.  By 
eleven  o'clock  at  night  seven  pages  had  been  pulled  and  cor- 
rected ;  but  the  eighth  page  was  not  forthcoming.  The  Flag 
had  to  be  machined,  dried,  folded,  and  a  number  of  copies  put 
into  wrappers  and  posted  by  three  in  the  morning.  The  situa- 
tion looked  desperate.  At  a  quarter  to  twelve,  Gluck  explained 
that  a  column  of  matter  already  set  up  had  been  "pied"  by  a 
careless  compositor.  It  happened  to  be  the  column  containing 
the  latest  news  and  Raphael  had  not  even  seen  a  proof  of  it. 
Still,  Gluck  conjured  him  not  to  trouble  further ;  he  would  give 
his  reader  strict  injunctions  not  to  miss  the  slightest  error. 
Raphael  had  already  seen  and  passed  the  first  column  of  this 
page,  let  him  leave  it  to  Gluck  to  attend  to  this  second  column ; 
all  would  be  well  without  his  remaining  later,  and  he  would 
receive  a  copy  of  the  Flag  by  the  first  post.     The  poor  editor, 


''THE  FLAG    OF  JUDAH.''  373 

whose  head  was  sphtting,  weakly  yielded ;  he  just  caught  the 
midnight  train  to  the  West  End  and  he  went  to  bed  feeling 
happy  and  hopeful. 

At  seven  o'clock  the  next  morning  the  whole  Leon  household 
was  roused  by  a  thunderous  double  rat-tat  at  the  door.  Addie 
was  even  heard  to  scream.  A  housemaid  knocked  at  Raphael's 
door  and  pushed  a  telegram  under  it.  Raphael  jumped  out  of 
bed  and  read  :  "  Third  of  column  more  matter  wanted.  Come  at 
once.     Gluck.'" 

"  How  can  that  be?  "  he  asked  himself  in  consternation.  "  If 
the  latest  news  made  a  column  when  it  was  first  set  up  before 
the  accident,  how  can  it  make  less  now? " 

He  dashed  up  to  Gluck's  office  in  a  hansom  and  put  the  co- 
nundrum to  him. 

"  You  see  we  had  no  time  to  distribute  the  '  pie,'  and  we  had 
no  more  type  of  that  kind,  so  we  had  to  reset  it  smaller," 
answered  Gluck  glibly.  His  eyes  were  blood-shot,  his  face 
was  haggard.  The  door  of  the  private  compartment  stood 
open. 

"Your  men  are  not  come  yet,  I  suppose,"  said  Raphael. 

"No,"  said  Gluck.  "They  didn't  go  away  till  two,  poor 
fellows.  Is  that  the  copy?  "  he  asked,  as  Raphael  handed  him  a 
couple  of  slips  he  had  distractedly  scribbled  in  the  cab  under  the 
heading  of  "  Talmudic  Tales."  "  Thank  you,  it's  just  about  the 
size.     I  shall  have  to  set  it  myself." 

"  But  won't  we  be  terribly  late?"  said  poor  Raphael. 

"  We  shall  be  out  to-day,"  responded  Gluck  cheerfully.  "We 
shall  be  in  time  for  the  Sabbath,  and  that's  the  important  thing. 
Don't  you  see  they're  half-printed  already?"  He  indicated  a 
huge  pile  of  sheets.  Raphael  examined  them  with  beating  heart. 
"  We've  only  got  to  print  'em  on  the  other  side  and  the  thing's 
done,"  said  Gluck. 

"  Where  are  your  machines  ?  " 

"There,"  said  Gluck,  pointing. 

"That  hand-press!"  cried  Raphael,  astonished.  "Do  you 
mean  to  say  you  print  them  all  with  your  own  hand? " 

"Why  not?"  said  the  dauntless  Gluck.     "I  shall  wrap  them 


374  GRANDCHILDREN  OF    THE    GHETTO. 

up  for  the  post,  too.'"  And  he  shut  himself  up  with  tlie  last  of 
the  ^'  copy." 

Raphael  having  exhausted  his  interest  in  the  half-paper,  fell  to 
striding  about  the  little  shop,  when  w'ho  should  come  in  but  Pin- 
chas,  smoking  a  cigar  of  the  Schlesinger  brand. 

*'  Ah,  my  Prince  of  Redacteurs,""  said  Pinchas,  darting  at 
Raphael's  hand  and  kissing  it.  ''  Did  I  not  say  you  vould  pro- 
duce the  finest  paper  in  the  kingdom?  But  vy  have  I  not  my 
copy  by  post?  You  must  not  listen  to  Ebenezer  ven  he  says  I 
must  not  be  on  the  free  list,  the  blackguard,''' 

Raphael  explained  to  the  incredulous  poet  that  Ebenezer  had 
not  said  anything  of  the  kind.  Suddenly  Pinchas's  eye  caught 
sight  of  the  sheets.  He  swooped  down  upon  them  like  a  hawk. 
Then  he  uttered  a  shriek  of  grief. 

"  Vere's  my  poem,  my  great  poesie  ?  " 

Raphael  looked  embarrassed. 

"  This  is  only  half  the  paper,"  he  said  evasively. 

"Ha,  then  it  vill  appear  in  the  other  half,  hemf''  he  said  with 
hope  tempered  by  a  terrible  suspicion. 

"  N — n — o,"  stammered  Raphael  timidly. 

"No?  "  shrieked  Pinchas. 

"You  see  —  the  —  fact  is,  it  wouldn''t  scan.  Your  Hebrew 
poetry  is  perfect,  but  English  poetry  is  made  rather  differently 
and  Eve  been  too  busy  to  correct  it.'"' 

"But  it  is  exactly  like  Lord  Byron's!"  shrieked  Pinchas. 
"  Mein  GottI  All  night  I  lie  avake  —  vaiting  for  the  post.  At 
eight  o'clock  the  post  comes  —  but  The  Flag  of  Judah  she  vaves 
not!  I  rush  round  here  —  and  now  my  beautiful  poem  vill  not 
appear.'"  He  seized  the  sheet  again,  then  cried  fiercely :  "  You 
have  a  tale,  '  The  Waters  of  Babylon,'  by  Ebenezer  the  fool-boy, 
but  my  poesie  have  you  not.  Gott  in  Hiinmel l''"'  He  tore  the 
sheet  frantically  across  and  rushed  from  the  shop.  In  five  min- 
utes he  reappeared.  Raphael  was  absorbed  in  reading  the  last 
proof.     Pinchas  plucked  timidly  at  his  coat-tails. 

"  You  vill  put  it  in  next  veek?  "  he  said  winningly. 

"I  dare  say,"  said  Raphael  gently. 

"Ah,  promise  me.     I  vill  love  you  like  a  brother,  I  vill  be 


THE    TROUBLES   OF  AN  EDITOR.  375 

grateful  to  you  for  ever  and  ever.  I  vill  never  ask  another  favor 
of  you  in  all  my  life.  Ve  are  already  like  brothers — Jiein?  I 
and  you,  the  only  two  men  —  " 

"Yes,  yes/'  interrupted  Raphael,  "  it  shall  appear  next  week." 

"God  bless  you! ''said  Pinchas,  kissing  Raphael's  coat-tails 
passionately  and  rushing  without. 

Looking  up  accidentally  some  minutes  afterwards,  Raphael 
was  astonished  to  see  the  poet's  carneying  head  thrust  through 
the  half-open  door  with  a  finger  laid  insinuatingly  on  the  side  of 
the  nose.  The  head  was  fixed  there  as  if  petrified,  waiting  to 
catch  the  editor's  eye. 

The  first  number  of  The  Flag  of  Judah  appeared  early  in  the 
afternoon. 

CHAPTER   IV. 

THE   TROUBLES   OF   AN   EDITOR. 

The  new  organ  did  not  create  a  profound  impression.  By  the 
rival  party  it  was  mildly  derided,  though  many  fair-minded  per- 
sons w^ere  impressed  by  the  rather  unusual  combination  of  rigid 
orthodoxy  with  a  high  spiritual  tone  and  Raphael's  conception 
of  Judaism  as  outlined  in  his  first  leader,  his  view  of  it  as  a  happy 
human  compromise  between  an  empty  unpractical  spiritualism 
and  a  choked-up  over-practical  formalism,  avoiding  the  opposite 
extremes  of  its  offshoots,  Christianity  and  Mohammedanism,  was 
novel  to  many  of  his  readers,  unaccustomed  to  think  about  their 
faith.  Dissatisfied  as  Raphael  was  with  the  number,  he  felt  he 
had  fluttered  some  of  the  dove-cotes  at  least.  Several  people 
of  taste  congratulated  him  during  Saturday  and  Sunday,  and  it 
was  with  a  continuance  of  Messianic  emotions  and  with  agree- 
able anticipations  that  he  repaired  on  Monday  morning  to  the 
little  den  which  had  been  inexpensively  fitted  up  for  him  above 
the  offices  of  Messrs.  Schlesinger  and  De  Haan.  To  his  sur- 
prise he  found  it  crammed  with  the  committee ;  all  gathered 
round  little  Sampson,  who,  with  flushed  face  and  cloak  tragically 
folded,  was  expostulating  at  the  top  of  his  voice.  Pinchas  stood 
at  the  back  in  silent  amusement.     As  Raphael  entered  jauntily, 


376  GRANDCHILDREN  OF  THE    GHETTO. 

a  change  came  over  the  company  ;  a  low  premonitory  roar  issued 
from  a  dozen  lips,  the  lowering  faces  turned  quickly  towards  him. 
Involuntarily  Raphael  started  back  in  alarm,  then  stood  rooted 
to  the  threshold.  There  was  a  dread  ominous  silence.  Then 
the  storm  burst. 

"  Du  Shegetz !  Dii  Pasha  Yisroile  I  "  came  from  all  quarters 
of  the  compass. 

To  be  called  a  graceless  Gentile  and  a  sinner  in  Israel  is  not 
pleasant  to  a  pious  Jew;  but  all  Raphael's  minor  sensations  were 
swallowed  up  in  a  great  wonderment. 

"  We  are  ruined  ! ''  moaned  the  furniture-dealer,  who  was 
always  failing. 

"  You  have  ruined  us ! "  came  the  chorus  from  the  thick,  sen- 
suous lips,  and  swarthy  fists  were  shaken  threateningly.  Sugar- 
man's  hairy  paw  was  almost  against  his  face.  Raphael  turned 
cold,  then  a  rush  of  red-hot  blood  flooded  his  veins.  He  put  out 
his  good  right  hand  and  smote  the  nearest  fist  aside.  Sugarman 
blenched  and  skipped  back  and  the  line  of  fists  wavered. 

"  Don't  be  fools,  gentlemen,"  said  De  Haan,  his  keen  sense 
of  humor  asserting  itself.     "  Let  Mr.  Leon  sit  down." 

Raphael,  still  dazed,  took  his  seat  on  the  editorial  chair. 
"Now,  what  can  I  do  for  you?"  he  said  courteously.  The  fists 
dropped  at  his  calm. 

"  Do  for  us,"  said  Schlesinger  drily.  "  YouVe  done  for  the 
paper.     It's  not  worth  twopence." 

"  Well,  bring  it  out  at  a  penny  at  once  then,"  laughed  little 
Sampson,  reinforced  by  the  arrival  of  his  editor. 

Guedalyah  the  greengrocer  glowered  at  him. 

"  I  am  very  sorry,  gentlemen,  I  have  not  been  able  to  satisfy 
you,"  said  Raphael.    "  But  in  a  first  number  one  can't  do  much." 

"Can't  they?"  said  De  Haan.  "You've  done  so  much  dam- 
age to  orthodoxy  that  we  don't  know  whether  to  go  on  with  the 
paper." 

"  You're  joking,"  murmured  Raphael. 

"  I  wish  I  was,"  laughed  De  Haan  bitterly. 

"But  you  astonish  me,"  persisted  Raphael.  "Would  you  be 
so  good  as  to  point  out  where  I  have  gone  wrong?  '^ 


THE    TROUBLES   OF  AN  EDITOR,  377 

"  With  pleasure.  Or  rather  with  pain,"  said  De  Haan.  Each 
of  the  committee  drew  a  tattered  copy  from  his  pocket,  and 
followed  De  Haan's  demonstration  with  a  murmured  accompani- 
ment of  lamentation. 

"  The  paper  was  founded  to  inculcate  the  inspection  of  cheese, 
the  better  supervision  of  the  sale  of  meat,  the  construction  of 
ladies'  baths,  and  all  the  principles  of  true  Judaism,*"  said  De 
Haan  gloomily,  "and  there's  not  one  word  about  these  things, 
but  a  great  deal  about  spirituality  and  the  significance  of  the 
ritual.     But  I  will  begin  at  the  beginning.     Page  i  — " 

"  But  that's  advertisements,"  muttered  Raphael. 

"  The  part  surest  to  be  read!  The  very  first  line  of  the  paper 
is  simply  shocking.     It  reads  : 

^'  Death  :  On  the  59th  ult.,  at  22  Buckley  St.,  the  Rev.  Abra- 
ham Barnett,  in  his  fifty-fourth  —  " 

"But  death  is  always  shocking;  what's  wrong  about  that?" 
interposed  little  Sampson. 

"Wrong I"  repeated  De  Haan,  witheringly.  "Where  did  you 
get  that  from  ?     That  was  never  sent  in." 

"  No,  of  course  not,"  said  the  sub-editor.  "  But  we  had  to 
have  at  least  one  advertisement  of  that  kind,  just  to  show  we 
should  be  pleased  to  advertise  our  readers'  deaths.  I  looked 
in  the  daily  papers  to  see  if  there  were  any  births  or  marriages 
with  Jewish  names,  but  I  couldn't  find  any,  and  that  was  the 
only  Jewish-sounding  death  I  could  see." 

"  But  the  Rev.  Abraham  Barnett  was  a  Mes/uijnad,'^  shrieked 
Sugarman  the  Shadchan.  Raphael  turned  pale.  To  have  in- 
serted an  advertisement  about  an  apostate  missionary  was 
indeed  terrible.  But  little  Sampson's  audacity  did  not  desert 
him. 

"  I  thought  the  orthodox  party  would  be  pleased  to  hear  of 
the  death  of  a  Meshuniad,^'  he  said  suavely,  screwing  his  eye- 
glass more  tightly  into  its  orbit,  "  on  the  same  principle  that 
anti-Semites  take  in  the  Jewish  papers  to  hear  of  the  death 
of  Jews." 

For  a  moment  De  Haan  was  staggered.  "That  would  be  all 
very  well,"  he  said ;  "  let  him  be  an  atonement  for  us  all,  but 


878  GRANDCHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

then  you've  gone  and  put  'May  his  soul  be  bound  up  in  the 
bundle  of  life.' " 

It  was  true.  The  stock  Hebrew  equivalent  for  R.  I.  P.  glared 
from  the  page. 

"Fortunately,  that  taking  advertisement  of  kosher  trousers 
comes  just  underneath,""  said  De  Haan,  "  and  that  may  draw 
off  the  attention.  On  page  2  you  actually  say  in  a  note  that 
Rabbenu  Bachja's  great  poem  on  repentance  should  be  incor- 
porated in  the  ritual  and  might  advantageously  replace  the  ob- 
scure Piyiit  by  Kalir.  But  this  is  rank  Reform  —  it's  worse 
than  the  papers  we  come  to  supersede." 

"  But  surely  you  know  it  is  only  the  Printing  Press  that  has 
stereotyped  our  liturgy,  that  for  Maimonides  and  Ibn  Ezra,  for 
David  Kimchi  and  Joseph  Albo,  the  contents  were  fluid,  that — "" 

"We  don't  deny  that,"'  interrupted  Schlesinger  drily.  "But 
we  can't  have  any  more  alterations  now-a-days.  Who  is  there 
worthy  to  alter  them  ?     You  ?  " 

"  Certainly  not.     I  merely  suggest." 

"You  are  playing  into  the  hands  of  our  enemies,"  said  De 
Haan,  shaking  his  head.  "We  must  not  let  our  readers  even 
imagine  that  the  prayer-book  can  be  tampered  with.  It's  the 
thin  end  of  the  wedge.  To  trim  our  liturgy  is  like  trimming 
living  flesh ;  wherever  you  cut,  the  blood  oozes.  The  four 
cubits  of  the  Halacha  —  that  is  what  is  wanted,  not  changes  in 
the  liturgy.  Once  touch  anything,  and  where  are  you  to  stop? 
Our  religion  becomes  a  flux.  Our  old  Judaism  is  like  an  old 
family  mansion,  where  each  generation  has  left  a  memorial  and 
where  every  room  is  hallowed  with  traditions  of  merrymaking 
and  mourning.  We  do  not  want  our  fathers'  home  decorated  in 
the  latest  style ;  the  next  step  will  be  removal  to  a  new  dwelling 
altogether.     On  page  3  you  refer  to  the  second  Isaiah." 

"  But  I  deny  that  there  were  two  Isaiahs." 

"  So  you  do ;  but  it  is  better  for  our  readers  not  to  hear  of 
such  impious  theories.  The  space  would  be  much  better  occu- 
pied in  explaining  the  Portion  for  the  week.  The  next  leader- 
ette has  a  flippant  tone,  which  has  excited  unfavorable  comment 
among  some  of  the  most   important   members  of  the   Dalston 


THE    TROUBLES   OF  AN  EDITOR.  379 

Synagogue.  They  object  to  humor  in  a  rehgious  paper.  On 
page  4  you  have  deliberately  missed  an  opportunity  of  puffing 
the  Kosher  Co-operative  Society.  Indeed,  there  is  not  a  word 
throughout  about  our  Society.  But  I  like  Mr.  Henry  Gold- 
smithes  letter  on  this  page,  though  ;  he  is  a  good  orthodox  man 
and  he  writes  from  a  good  address.  It  will  show  we  are  not 
only  read  in  the  East  End.  Pity  he^s  such  a  Man-of-the-Earth, 
though.  Yes,  and  that's  good — the  communication  from  the 
Rev.  Joseph  Strelitski.  I  think  he's  a  bit  of  an  Epikoiiros,  but 
it  looks  as  if  the  whole  of  the  Kensington  Synagogue  was  with 
us.  I  understand  he  is  a  friend  of  yours  :  it  will  be  as  well  for 
you  to  continue  friendly.  Several  of  us  here  knew  him  well  in 
Olov  HasholoDi  times,  but  he  is  become  so  grand  and  rarely 
shows  himself  at  the  Holy  Land  League  Meetings.  He  can 
help  us  a  lot  if  he  will." 

"Oh,  Fm  sure  he  will,''  said  Raphael. 

"That's  good,"  said  De  Haan,  caressing  his  white  beard. 
Then  growing  gloomy  again,  he  went  on,  "•  On  page  5  you  have 
a  little  article  by  Gabriel  Hamburg,  a  well-known  Epikoiiros.'''' 

"  Oh,  but  he's  one  of  the  greatest  scholars  in  Europe! "  broke 
in  Raphael.  "I  thought  you'd  be  extra  pleased  to  have  it.  He 
sent  it  to  me  from  Stockholm  as  a  special  favor."  He  did  not 
mention  he  had  secretly  paid  for  it.  "  I  know  some  of  his  views 
are  heterodox,  and  I  don't  agree  with  half  he  says,  but  this  article 
is  perfectly  harmless." 

"  Well,  let  it  pass  —  very  few  of  our  readers  have  ever  heard 
of  him.  But  on  the  same  page  you  have  a  Latin  quotation.  I 
don't  say  there's  anything  wrong  in  that,  but  it  smacks  of  Reform. 
Our  readers  don't  understand  it  and  it  looks  as  if  our  Hebrew 
were  poor.  The  Mishna  contains  texts  suited  for  all  purposes. 
We  are  in  no  need  of  Roman  writers.  On  page  6  you  speak  of 
the  Reform  Shool,  as  if  it  were  to  be  reasoned  with.  Sir,  if  we 
mention  these  freethinkers  at  all,  it  must  be  in  the  strongest  lan- 
guage. By  worshipping  bare-headed  and  by  seating  the  sexes 
together  they  have  defiled  Judaism." 

"Stop  a  minute! "' interrupted  Raphael  warmly.  "Who  told 
you  the  Reformers  do  this  ?  " 


380  GRANDCHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

"  Who  told  me,  indeed  ?  Why,  if  s  common  knowledge.  That's 
how  they've  been  going  on  for  the  last  fifty  years."  "  Everybody 
knows  it,"  said  the  Committee  in  chorus. 

"  Has  one  of  you  ever  been  there  ? "  said  Raphael,  rising  in 
excitement. 

"  God  forbid!  "  said  the  chorus. 

"  Well,  I  have,  and  it's  a  lie,"  said  Raphael.  His  arms  whirled 
round  to  the  discomfort  of  the  Committee. 

"  You  ought  not  to  have  gone  there,"  said  Schlesinger  severely. 
"  Besides,  will  you  deny  they  have  the  organ  in  their  Sabbath 
services  ? " 

"No,  I  won't!" 

"Well,  then!"  said  De  Haan,  triumphantly.  "If  they  are 
capable  of  that,  they  are  capable  of  any  wickedness.  Orthodox 
people  can  have  nothing  to  do  with  them." 

"But  orthodox  immigrants  take  their  money,"  said  Raphael. 

"  Their  money  is  kosher]  they  are  tripha^''''  said  De  Haan  sen- 
tentiously.  "Page  7,  now  we  get  to  the  most  dreadful  thing  of 
all!"  A  solemn  silence  fell  on  the  room.  Pinchas  sniggered 
unobtrusively. 

"  You  have  a  little  article  headed,  ^Talmudic  Tales.'  Why  in 
heaven's  name  you  couldn't  have  finished  the  column  with  bits 
of  news  I  don't  know.  Satan  himself  must  have  put  the  thought 
into  your  head.  Just  at  the  end  of  the  paper,  too!  For  I 
can't  reckon  page  8,  which  is  simply  our  own  advertisement." 

"  I  thought  it  would  be  amusing,"  said  Raphael. 

"Amusing!  If  you  had  simply  told  the  tales,  it  might  have 
been.  But  look  how  you  introduce  them  !  '  These  amusing  tales 
occur  in  the  fifth  chapter  of  Baba  Bathra,  and  are  related  by 
Rabbi  Bar  Bar  Channah.  Our  readers  will  see  that  they  are 
parables  or  allegories  rather  than  actual  facts.'  " 

"  But  do  you  mean  to  say  you  look  upon  them  as  facts  ?  "  cried 
Raphael,  sawing  the  air  wildly  and  pacing  about  on  the  toes  of 
the  Committee. 

"Surely!"  said  De  Haan,  while  a  low  growl  at  his  blasphe- 
mous doubts  ran  along  the  lips  of  the  Committee. 

"Was  it  treacherously  to  undermine  Judaism  that  you  so  eagerly 


THE    TROUBLES   OF  AN  EDITOR.  381 

offered  to  edit  for  nothing  ? ''  said  the  furniture-dealer  who  was 
always  failing. 

"But  listen  here!"  cried  Raphael,  exasperated.  "  Harmez, 
the  son  of  Lilith,  a  demon,  saddled  two  mules  and  made  them 
stand  on  opposite  sides  of  the  River  Doneg.  He  then  jumped 
from  the  back  of  one  to  that  of  the  other.  He  had,  at  the  time, 
a  cup  of  wine  in  each  hand,  and  as  he  jumped,  he  threw  the  wine 
from  each  cup  into  the  other  without  spilling  a  drop,  although  a 
hurricane  was  blowing  at  the  time.  When  the  King  of  demons 
heard  that  Harmez  had  been  thus  showing  off  to  mortals,  he 
slew  him.     Does  any  of  you  believe  that?" 

"  Vould  our  Sages  (their  memories  for  a  blessing)  put  any- 
thing into  the  Talmud  that  vasn't  true?"  queried  Sugarman. 
"  Ve  know  there  are  demons  because  it  stands  that  Solomon 
knew  their  language." 

"But  then,  what  about  this?"  pursued  Raphael.  "'I  saw  a 
frog  which  was  as  big  as  the  district  of  Akra  Hagronia.  A  sea- 
monster  came  and  swallowed  the  frog,  and  a  raven  came  and  ate 
the  sea-monster.  The  raven  then  went  and  perched  on  a  tree.' 
Consider  how  strong  that  tree  must  have  been.  R.  Papa  ben 
Samuel  remarks,  '  Had  I  not  been  present,  I  should  not  have 
believed  it.'  Doesn't  this  appendix  about  ben  Samuel  show  that 
it  was  never  meant  to  be  taken  seriously?" 

"  It  has  some  high  meaning  we  do  not  understand  in  these 
degenerate  times,"  said  Guedalyah  tlie  greengrocer.  "  It  is  not 
for  our  paper  to  weaken  faith  in  the  Talmud." 

"Hear,  hear!"  said  De  Haan,  while  '■^ Epikou?'os'''  rumbled 
through  the  air,  like  distant  thunder. 

"Didn't  I  say  an  Englishman  could  never  master  the  Talmud?  " 
Sugarman  asked  in  triumph. 

This  reminder  of  Raphael's  congenital  incompetence  softened 
their  minds  towards  him,  so  that  when  he  straightway  re- 
signed his  editorship,  their  self-constituted  spokesman  besought 
him  to  remain.  Perhaps  they  remembered,  too,  that  he  was 
cheap. 

"  But  we  must  all  edit  the  paper,"  said  De  Haan  enthusiasti- 
cally, when  peace  was  re-established.     "  We  must  have  meetings 


382  GRANDCHILDREN  OF  THE    GHETTO. 

every  day  and  every  article  must  be  read  aloud  before  it  is 
printed." 

Little  Sampson  winked  cynically,  passing  his  hand  pensively 
through  his  thick  tangled  locks,  but  Raphael  saw  no  objection  to 
the  arrangement.  As  before,  he  felt  his  own  impracticability 
borne  in  upon  him,  and  he  decided  to  sacrifice  himself  for  the 
Cause  as  far  as  conscience  permitted.  Excessive  as  was  the  zeal 
of  these  men,  it  was  after  all  in  the  true  groove.  His  annoyance 
returned  for  a  while,  however,  when  Sugarman  the  Shadchan 
seized  the  auspicious  moment  of  restored  amity  to  inquire  insinu- 
atingly if  his  sister  was  engaged.  Pinchas  and  little  Sampson 
went  down  the  stairs,  quivering  with  noiseless  laughter,  which 
became  boisterous  when  they  reached  the  street.  Pinchas  was 
in  high  feather. 

"The  fool-men!"  he  said,  as  he  led  the  sub-editor  into  a  pub- 
lic-house and  regaled  him  on  stout  and  sandwiches.  "  They 
believe  any  Narrischkeit.  I  and  you  are  the  only  two  sensible 
Jews  in  England.  You  vill  see  that  my  poesie  goes  in  next  week 
—  promise  me  that!  To  your  life! "''  here  they  touched  glasses. 
"  Ah,  it  is  beautiful  poesie.  Such  high  tragic  ideas!  You  vill 
kiss  me  when  you  read  them!"*  He  laughed  in  childish  light- 
heartedness.  "Perhaps  I  write  you  a  comic  opera  for  your  com- 
pany—  Jiein?  Already  I  love  you  like  a  brotiier.  Another  glass 
stout?  Bring  us  two  more,  thou  Hebe  of  the  hops-nectar.  You 
have  seen  my  comedy  ^The  Hornet  of  Judah  ' — No?  —  Ah,  she 
vas  a  great  comedy,  Sampson.-  All  London  talked  of  her.  She 
has  been  translated  into  every  tongue.  Perhaps  I  play  in  your 
company.  I  am  a  great  actor  —  /leinf  You  know  not  my  forte 
is  voman's  parts  —  I  make  myself  so  lovely  complexion  vith  red 
paint,  I  fall  in  love  vith  me."  He  sniggered  over  his  stout. 
"  The  Redacteur  vill  not  redact  long,  hein?''''  he  said  presently. 
"He  is  a  fool-man.  If  he  work  for  nothing  they  think  that  is 
what  he  is  worth.     They  are  orthodox,  he,  he!" 

"  But  he  is  orthodox  too,"  said  little  Sampson. 

"Yes,"  replied  Pinchas  musingly.  "It  is  strange.  It  is  very 
strange.  I  cannot  understand  him.  Never  in  all  my  experience 
have  I    met  another  such  man.     There  vas  an  Italian  exile   I 


THE    TROUBLES   OF  AN  EDITOR.  383 

talked  vith  once  in  the  island  of  Chios,  his  eyes  were  like  Leon's, 
soft  vith  a  shining  splendor  like  the  stars  vich  are  the  eyes  of  the 
angels  of  love.  Ah,  he  is  a  good  man,  and  he  writes  sharp  ;  he 
has  ideas,  not  like  an  English  Jew  at  all,  I  could  throw  my  arms 
round  him  sometimes.  I  love  him  like  a  brother."  His  voice 
softened.     '•  Anotlier  glass  stout ;  ve  vill  drink  to  him." 

Raphael  did  not  find  the  editing  by  Committee  feasible.  The 
friction  was  incessant,  the  waste  of  time  monstrous.  The  second 
number  cost  him  even  more  headaches  than  the  first,  and  this, 
although  the  gallant  Gluck  abandoning  his  single-handed  emprise 
fortified  himself  with  a  real  live  compositor  and  had  arranged 
for  the  paper  to  be  printed  by  machinery.  The  position  was  in- 
tolerable. It  put  a  touch  of  acid  into  his  dulciferous  mildness! 
Just  before  going  to  press  he  was  positively  rude  to  Pinchas.  It 
would  seem  that  little  Sampson  sheltering  himself  behind  his  cap- 
italists had  refused  to  give  the  poet  a  commission  for  a  comic 
opera,  and  Pinchas  raved  at  Gideon,  M.  P.,  who  he  was  sure  was 
Sampson's  financial  backer,  and  threatened  to  shoot  him  and 
danced  maniacally  about  the  office. 

"  I  have  written  an  attack  on  the  Member  for  Vitechapel,"  he 
said,  growing  calmer,  "  to  hand  him  down  to  the  execration  of  pos- 
terity, and  I  have  brought  it  to  the  Flag.    It  must  go  in  this  veek." 

''  We  have  already  your  poem,"  said  Raphael. 

"  I  know,  but  I  do  not  grudge  my  work,  I  am  not  like  your 
money-making  English  Jews." 

"There  is  no  room.     The  paper  is  full." 

"  Leave  out  Ebenezer's  tale  —  with  the  blue  spectacles." 

"  There  is  none.     It  was  completed  in  one  number." 

"  Well,  must  you  put  in  your  leader  ?  " 

"  Absolutely  ;  please  go  away.     I  have  this  page  to  read." 

"  But  you  can  leave  out  some  advertisements  ?  " 

"  I  must  not.     We  have  too  few  as  it  is." 

The  poet  put  his  finger  alongside  his  nose,  but  Raphael  was 
adamant. 

"Do  me  this  one  favor,"  he  pleaded.  "I  love  you  like  a 
brother ;  just  this  one  little  thing.  I  vill  never  ask  another  favor 
of  you  all  my  life." 


384  GRANDCHILDREN  OF  THE    GHETTO. 

"  I  would  not  put  it  in,  even  if  there  was  room.  Go  away," 
said  Raphael,  almost  roughly. 

The  unaccustomed  accents  gave  Pinchas  a  salutary  shock. 
He  borrowed  two  shillings  and  left,  and  Raphael  was  afraid  to 
look  up  lest  he  should  see  his  head  wedged  in  the  doonvay. 
Soon  after  Gluck  and  his  one  compositor  carried  out  the  forms 
to  be  machined.  Little  Sampson,  arriving  with  a  gay  air  on  his 
lips,  met  them  at  the  door. 

On  the  Friday,  Raphael  sat  in  the  editorial  chair,  utterly  dis- 
pirited, a  battered  wreck.  The  Committee  had  just  left  him.  A 
lieresy  had  crept  into  a  bit  of  late  news  not  inspected  by  them, 
and  they  declared  that  the  paper  was  not  worth  twopence  and 
had  better  be  stopped.  The  demand  for  this  second  number 
was,  moreover,  rather  poor,  and  eacli  man  felt  his  ten  pound 
share  melting  away,  and  resolved  not  to  pay  up  the  half  yet 
unpaid.  It  was  Raphael's  first  real  experience  of  men- — after 
the  enchanted  towers  of  Oxford,  where  he  had  foregathered 
with  dreamers. 

His  pipe  hung  listless  in  his  mouth  ;  an  extinct  volcano.  His 
first  fit  of  distrust  in  human  nature,  nay,  even  in  the  purifying 
powers  of  orthodoxy,  was  racking  him.  Strangely  enough  this 
wave  of  scepticism  tossed  up  the  thought  of  Esther  Ansell,  and 
stranger  still,  on  the  top  of  this  thought,  in  walked  Mr.  Henry 
Goldsmith.  Raphael  jumped  up  and  welcomed  his  late  host, 
whose  leathery  countenance  shone  with  the  polish  of  a  sweet 
smile.  It  appeared  that  the  communal  pillar  had  been  passing 
casually,  and  thought  heM  look  Raphael  up. 

"  So  you  don't  pull  well  together,''  he  said,  when  he  had 
elicited  an  outline  of  the  situation  from  the  editor. 

"No,  not  altogether,"  admitted  Raphael. 

"  Do  you  think  the  paper'll  live?  " 

"  I  can't  say,''  said  Raphael,  dropping  limply  into  his  chair. 
"  Even  if  it  does,  I  don't  know  whether  it  will  do  much  good  if  run 
on  their  lines,  for  although  it  is  of  great  importance  that  we  get 
kosher  food  and  baths,  I  hardly  think  they  go  about  it  in  the  right 
spirit.  I  may  be  wrong.  They  are  older  men  than  I  and  have 
seen  more  of  actual  life,  and  know  the  class  we  appeal  to  better." 


THE    TROUBLES   OF  AN  EDITOR.  385 

"  No,  no,  you  are  not  wrong/'  said  Mr.  Goldsmith  vehemently. 
"  I  am  myself  dissatisfied  with  some  of  the  Committee's  contribu- 
tions to  this  second  number.  It  is  a  great  opportunity  to  save 
English  Judaism,  but  it  is  being  frittered  away," 

"  I  am  afraid  it  is,"  said  Raphael,  removing  his  empty  pipe 
from  his  mouth,  and  staring  at  it  blankly. 

Mr.  Goldsmith  brought  his  fist  down  sharp  on  the  soft  litter 
that  covered  the  editorial  table. 

"  It  shall  not  be  frittered  away!  "  he  cried.  ''  No,  not  if  I  have 
to  buy  the  paper!  " 

Raphael  looked  up  eagerly. 

"What  do  you  say?"  said  Goldsmith.  "Shall  I  buy  it  up 
and  let  you  work  it  on  your  lines  ? " 

"  I  shall  be  very  glad,"  said  Raphael,  the  Messianic  look  re- 
turning to  his  face. 

"  How  much  will  they  want  for  it?  " 

"Oh,  I  think  they'll  be  glad  to  let  you  take  it  over.  They  say 
it's  not  worth  twopence,  and  Fm  sure  they  haven't  got  the  funds 
to  carry  it  on,"  replied  Raphael,  rising.  "  I'll  go  down  about  it 
at  once.  The  Committee  have  just  been  here,  and  I  dare  say 
they  are  still  in  Schlesinger's  office." 

"No,  no,"  said  Goldsmith,  pushing  him  down  into  his  seat. 
"  It  will  never  do  if  people  know  I'm  the  proprietor." 

"Why  not?" 

"  Oh,  lots  of  reasons.  I'm  not  a  man  to  brag ;  if  I  want  to 
do  a  good  thing  for  Judaism,  there's  no  reason  for  all  the  world 
to  know  it.  Then  again,  from  my  position  on  all  sorts  of  com- 
mittees I  shall  be  able  to  influence  the  communal  advertise- 
ments in  a  way  I  couldn't  if  people  knew  I  had  any  connection 
with  the  paper.  So,  too,  I  shall  be  able  to  recommend  it  to  my 
wealthy  friends  (as  no  doubt  it  will  deserve  to  be  recommended) 
without  my  praise  being  discounted." 

"  Well,  but  then  what  am  I  to  say  to  the  Committee? " 

"  Can't  you  say  you  want  to  buy  it  for  yourself?  They  know 
you  can  afford  it." 

Raphael  hesitated.     "  But  why  shouldn't  I  buy  it  for  myself?" 

"  Pooh!     Haven't  you  got  better  use  for  your  money? " 
2  c 


886  GRANDCHILDREN   OF   THE    GHETTO. 

It  was  true.  Raphael  had  designs  more  tangibly  philan- 
thropic for  the  five  thousand  pounds  left  him  by  his  aunt.  And 
he  was  business-like  enough  to  see  that  Mr.  Goldsmith's  money 
might  as  well  be  utilized  for  the  good  of  Judaism.  He  was  not 
quite  easy  about  the  little  fiction  that  would  be  necessary  for  the 
transaction,  but  the  combined  assurances  of  Mr.  Goldsmith  and 
his  own  common  sense  that  there  was  no  real  deception  or 
harm  involved  in  it,  ultimately  prevailed.  Mr.  Goldsmith  left, 
promising  to  call  again  in  an  hour,  and  Raphael,  full  of  new 
hopes,  burst  upon  the  Committee. 

But  his  first  experience  of  bargaining  was  no  happier  than 
the  rest  of  his  worldly  experience.  When  he  professed  his 
willingness  to  relieve  them  of  tlie  burden  of  carrying  on  the 
paper  they  first  stared,  then  laughed,  then  shook  their  fists. 
As  if  they  would  leave  him  to  corrupt  the  Faith!  When  they 
understood  he  was  willing  to  pay  something,  the  value  of  The 
Flag  of  JiidaJi  went  up  from  less  than  twopence  to  more  than 
two  hundred  pounds.  Everybody  was  talking  about  it,  its  repu- 
tation was  made,  they  were  going  to  print  double  next  week. 

"  But  it  has  not  cost  you  forty  pounds  yet?''  said  the  aston- 
ished Raphael. 

"What  are  you  saying?  Look  at  the  posters  alone!''  said 
Suijarman. 

"  But  you  don't  look  at  it  fairly,'^  argued  De  Haan,  whose 
Talmudical  studies  had  sharpened  wits  already  super-subtle. 
"  Whatever  it  has  cost  us,  it  would  have  cost  as  much  more  if 
we  had  had  to  pay  our  editor,  and  it  is  very  unfair  of  you  to 
leave  that  out  of  account." 

Raphael  was  overwhelmed.  "  It's  taking  away  with  the  left 
hand  what  you  gave  us  with  the  right,"  added  De  Haan,  with 
infinite  sadness.     "  I  had  thought  better  of  you,  Mr.  Leon." 

''  But  you  got  a  good  many  twopences  back,"  murmured 
Raphael. 

"  It's  the  future  profits  that  we're  losing,"  explained  Schle- 
singer. 

In  the  end  Raphael  agreed  to  give  a  hundred  pounds,  which 
made  the  members  inwardly  determine  to  pay  up  the  residue  on 


THE    TROUBLES    OF  AN  EDITOR.  387 

their  shares  at  once.  De  Haan  also  extorted  a  condition  that 
the  Flag  should  continue  to  be  the  organ  of  the  Kosher  Co- 
operative Society,  for  at  least  six  months,  doubtless  perceiving 
that  should  the  paper  live  and  thrive  over  that  period,  it  would 
not  then  pay  the  proprietor  to  alter  its  principles.  By  which 
bargain  the  Society  secured  for  itself  a  sum  of  money  together 
with  an  organ,  gratis,  for  six  months  and,  to  all  seeming,  in  per- 
petuity, for  at  bottom  they  knew  well  that  Raphael's  heart  was 
sound.  They  were  all  on  the  free  list,  too,  and  they  knew  he 
would  not  trouble  to  remove  them. 

Mr.  Henry  Goldsmith,  returning,  was  rather  annoyed  at  the 
price,  but  did  not  care  to  repudiate  his  agent. 

*'  Be  economical,"  he  said.  ''I  will  get  you  a  better  office  and 
find  a  proper  publisher  and  canvasser.  But  cut  it  as  close  as 
you  can.'' 

Raphael's  face  beamed  with  joy.  '•  Oh,  depend  upon  me,"  he 
said. 

"What  is  your  own  salary?  "  asked  Goldsmith. 

"  Nothing,"  said  Raphael. 

A  flash  passed  across  Goldsmith's  face,  then  he  considered  a 
moment. 

''  I  wish  you  would  let  it  be  a  guinea,"  he  said.  "  Quite  nom- 
inal, you  know.  Only  1  like  to  have  things  in  proper  form. 
And  if  you  ever  want  to  go,  you  know,  you'll  give  me  a  month's 
notice  and,"  here  he  laughed  genially,  "  I'll  do  ditto  when  I  want 
to  get  rid  of  you.     Ha!  Hal  Ha!     Is  that  a  bargain?" 

Raphael  smiled  in  reply  and  the  two  men's  hands  met  in  a 
hearty  clasp. 

"  Miss  Ansell  will  help  you,  I  know,"  said  Goldsmith  cheerily. 
"That  girl's  got  it  in  her,  I  can  tell  you.  She'll  take  the  shine 
out  of  some  of  our  West  Enders.  Do  you  know  I  picked  her 
out  of  the  gutter,  so  to  speak  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  said  Raphael.  "  It  was  very  good  and  dis- 
criminating of  you.     How  is  she  ? " 

"  She's  all  right.  Come  up  and  see  her  about  doing  some- 
thing for  you.  She  goes  to  the  Museum  sometimes  in  the  after- 
noons, but  you'll  always  find  her  in  on  Sundays,  or  most  Sundays. 


388  GRANDCHILDREN   OF   THE    GHETTO. 

Come  up  and  dine  with  us  again  soon,  will  you?  Mrs.  Gold- 
smith will  be  so  pleased/' 

"  I  will,"  said  Raphael  fervently.  And  when  the  door  closed 
upon  the  communal  pillar,  he  fell  to  striding  feverishly  about 
his  little  den.  His  trust  in  human  nature  was  restored  and  the 
receding  wave  of  scepticism  bore  off  again  the  image  of  Esther 
Ansell.     Now  to  work  for  Judaism! 

The  sub-editor  made  his  first  appearance  that  day,  carolling 
joyously. 

"  Sampson,"  said  Raphael  abruptly,  ''  your  salary  is  raised  by 
a  guinea  a  week.'" 

The  joyous  song  died  away  on  little  Sampson's  lips.  His  eye- 
glass dropped.  He  let  himself  fall  backwards,  impinging  noise- 
lessly upon  a  heap  of  '•  returns ''  of  number  one. 


CHAPTER   V. 
A  woman's  growth. 

The  sloppy  Sunday  afternoon,  which  was  tlie  first  opportunity 
Raphael  had  of  profiting  by  Mr.  Henry  Goldsmith's  general  invi- 
tation to  call  and  see  Esther,  happened  to  be  that  selected  by  the 
worthy  couple  for  a  round  of  formal  visits.  Esther  was  left  at 
home  with  a  headache,  little  expecting  pleasanter  company.  She 
hesitated  about  receiving  Raphael,  but  on  hearing  that  he  had 
come  to  see  her  rather  than  her  patrons,  she  smoothed  her  hair, 
put  on  a  prettier  frock,  and  went  down  into  the  drawing-room, 
where  she  found  liim  striding  restlessly  in  bespattered  boots  and 
moist  overcoat.  When  he  became  aware  of  her  presence,  he 
went  towards  her  eagerly,  and  shook  lier  hand  with  jerky 
awkwardness. 

"How  are  you?"  he  said  heartily. 

"  Very  well,  thank  you,"  she  replied  automatically.  Then  a 
twinge,  as  of  reproach  at  the  falsehood,  darted  across  her  brow, 
and  she  added,  "A  trifle  of  the  usual  headache.  I  hope  you  are 
well." 


A    WOMAN'S   GROWTH.  389 

"  Quite,  thank  you,'''  he  rejoined. 

His  face  rather  contradicted  him.  It  looked  thin,  pale,  and 
weary.  Journalism  writes  lines  on  the  healthiest  countenance. 
Esther  looked  at  him  disapprovingly ;  she  had  the  woman's 
artistic  instinct  if  not  the  artist's,  and  Raphael,  with  his  damp 
overcoat,  everlastingly  cnmipled  at  the  collar,  was  not  an  aesthetic 
object.  Whether  in  her  pretty  moods  or  her  plain,  Esther  was 
always  neat  and  dainty.  There  was  a  bit  of  ruffled  lace  at  her 
throat,  and  the  heliotrope  of  her  gow^n  contrasted  agreeably  with 
the  dark  skin  of  the  vivid  face. 

"  Do  take  off  your  overcoat  and  dry  yourself  at  the  fire,''  she 
said. 

While  he  was  disposing  of  it,  she  poked  the  fire  into  a  big 
cheerful  blaze,  seating  herself  opposite  him  in  a  capacious  arm- 
chair, where  the  flame  picked  her  out  in  bright  tints  upon  the 
dusky  background  of  the  great  dim  room. 

"And  how  is  The  Flagofjiidahf'^  she  said. 

"  Still  waving,"  he  replied.  "It  is  about  that  that  I  have 
come." 

"About  that?"  she  said  wonderingly.  "  Oh,  I  see;  you  want 
to  know  if  the  one  person  it  is  written  at  has  read  it.  Well, 
make  your  mind  easy.  I  have.  I  have  read  it  religiously — No, 
I  don't  mean  that ;  yes,  I  do  ;  it's  the  appropriate  word." 

"Really? "     He  tried  to  penetrate  behind  the  bantering  tone. 

"  Yes,  really.  You  put  your  side  of  the  case  eloquently  and 
well.  I  look  forward  to  Friday  with  interest.  I  hope  the  paper 
is  selling?" 

"  So,  so,"  he  said.  "  It  is  uphill  work.  The  Jewish  public 
looks  on  journalism  as  a  branch  of  philanthropy,  I  fear,  and  Sid- 
ney suggests  publishing  our  free-list  as  a  '  Jewish  Directory.'  " 

She  smiled.  "'  Mr.  Graham  is  very  amusing.  Only,  he  is  too 
well  aware  of  it.  He  has  been  here  once  since  that  dinner,  and 
we  discussed  you.  He  says  he  can't  understand  how  you  came 
to  be  a  cousin  of  his,  even  a  second  cousin.  He  says  he  is 
L Homme  qui  rit,  and  you  are  VHonifne  qui  prie^ 

"  He  has  let  that  off  on  me  already,  supplemented  by  the  ex- 
planation that  every  extensive  Jewish  family  embraces  a  genius 


390  GRANDCHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

and  a  lunatic.  He  admits  that  he  is  the  genius.  Tlie  unfortu- 
nate part  for  me,"  ended  Raphael,  laughing,  "is,  that  he  is  a 
genius.'" 

"  I  saw  two  of  his  little  things  the  other  day  at  the  Impres- 
sionist Exhibition  in  Piccadilly.  They  are  very  clever  and 
dashing." 

"  I  am  told  he  draws  ballet-girls,"  said  Raphael,  moodily. 

"  Yes,  he  is  a  disciple  of  Degas." 

"You  don't  like  that  style  of  art?"  he  said,  a  shade  of  con- 
cern in  his  voice. 

"  I  do  not,"  said  Esther,  emphatically.  "  I  am  a  curious  mixt- 
ure. In  art,  I  have  discovered  in  myself  two  conflicting  tastes, 
and  neither  is  for  the  modern  realism,  which  I  yet  admire  in 
literature.  I  like  poetic  pictures,  impregnated  with  vague  roman- 
tic melancholy ;  and  I  like  the  white  lucidity  of  classic  statuary. 
I  suppose  the  one  taste  is  the  offspring  of  temperament,  the  other 
of  thought ;  for,  intellectually,  I  admire  the  Greek  ideas,  and  was 
glad  to  hear  you  correct  Sidney's  perversion  of  the  adjective.  I 
wonder,"  she  added,  reflectively,  "  if  one  can  worship  the  gods 
of  the  Greeks  without  believing  in  them." 

"  But  you  wouldn't  make  a  cult  of  beauty?" 

"  Not  if  you  take  beauty  in  the  narrow  sense  in  which  I  should 
fancy  your  cousin  uses  the  word ;  but,  in  a  higher  and  broader 
sense,  is  it  not  the  one  fine  thing  in  life  which  is  a  certainty,  the 
one  ideal  which  is  not  illusion?" 

"  Nothing  is  illusion,"  said  Raphael,  earnestly.  "  At  least,  not 
in  your  sense.     Why  should  the  Creator  deceive  us?" 

"  Oh  well,  don't  let  us  get  into  metaphysics.  We  argue  from 
different  platforms,"  she  said.  "  Tell  me  what  you  really  came 
about  in  connection  with  the  Flag^ 

"  Mr.  Goldsmith  was  kind  enough  to  suggest  that  you  might 
write  for  it." 

"What!"  exclaimed  Esther,  sitting  upright  in  her  arm-chair. 
''I?     I  write  for  an  orthodox  paper?" 

"  Yes,  why  not  ? " 

"  Do  you  mean  Tm  to  take  part  in  my  own  conversion?" 

"  The  paper  is  not  entirely  religious,"  he  reminded  her. 


A    WOMAN'S   GROWTH.  391 

"  No,  there  are  the  advertisements."  she  said  slily- 

'"  Pardon  me,"  he  said.  '•  We  don't  insert  any  advertisements 
contrary  to  the  principles  of  orthodoxy.  Not  that  we  are  much 
tempted." 

'■'■  You  advertise  soap,"  she  murmured. 

"Oh,  please!     Don't  you  go  in  for  those  cheap  sarcasms." 

"  Forgive  me,"  she  said.  ''  Remember  my  conceptions  of 
orthodoxy  are  drawn  mainly  from  the  Ghetto,  where  cleanli- 
ness, so  far  from  being  next  to  godliness,  is  nowhere  in  the 
vicinity.     But  what  can  I  do  for  you?" 

"  I  don't  know.  At  present  the  staff,  the  /7^^-staff  as  Sidney 
calls  it,  consists  of  myself  and  a  sub-editor,  who  take  it  in  turn 
to  translate  the  only  regular  outside  contributor's  articles  into 
English." 

"Who's  that?" 

"  Melchitsedek  Pinchas,  the  poet  I  told  you  of." 

"  I  suppose  he  writes  in  Hebrew." 

"  No,  if  he  did  the  translation  would  be  plain  sailing  enough. 
The  trouble  is  that  he  will  write  in  English.  I  must  admit, 
though,  he  improves  daily.  Our  correspondents,  too,  have  the 
same  weakness  for  the  vernacular,  and  I  grieve  to  add  that  when 
they  do  introduce  a  Hebrew  word,  they  do  not  invariably  spell  it 
correctly." 

She  smiled  ;  her  smile  was  never  so  fascinating  as  by  fire- 
light. 

Raphael  rose  and  paced  the  room  nervously,  flinging  out  his 
arms  in  uncouth  fashion  to  emphasize  his  speech. 

"  I  was  thinking  you  might  introduce  a  secular  department  of 
some  sort  which  would  brighten  up  the  paper.  My  articles  are 
so  plaguy  dull." 

"Not  so  dull,  for  religious  articles,"  she  assured  him. 

"  Could  you  treat  Jewish  matters  from  a  social  standpoint  — 
gossipy  sort  of  thing." 

She  shook  her  head.  "  Pm  afraid  to  trust  myself  to  write  on 
Jewish  subjects.  I  should  be  sure  to  tread  on  somebody's 
corns." 

"Oh,  I  have  it! "  he  cried,  bringing  his  arms  in  contact  with  a 


392  GRANDCHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

small  Venetian  vase  which  Esther,  with  great  presence  of  mind, 
just  managed  to  catch  ere  it  reached  the  ground. 

"  No,  I  have  it,"  she  said,  laughing.  "  Do  sit  down,  else 
nobody  can  answer  for  the  consequences." 

She  half  pushed  him  into  his  chair,  where  he  fell  to  warming 
his  hands  contemplatively. 

"  Well  ?  "  she  said  after  a  pause.     "  I  thought  you  had  an  idea." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  he  said,  rousing  himself.  "  The  subject  we  were 
just  discussing — Art." 

"  But  there  is  nothing  Jewish  about  art." 

^'  All  noble  work  has  its  religious  aspects.  Then  there  are 
Jewish  artists." 

"Oh  yes!  your  contemporaries  do  notice  their  exhibits,  and 
there  seem  to  be  more  of  them  than  the  world  ever  hears  of. 
But  if  I  w'ent  to  a  gathering  for  you  how  should  I  know  which 
were  Jew's?  " 

"By  their  names,  of  course." 

"  By  no  means  of  course.  Some  artistic  Jews  have  forgotten 
their  own  names." 

"  That's  a  dig  at  Sidney." 

"  Really,  I  wasn't  thinking  of  him  for  the  moment,"  she  said  a 
little  sharply.  "  However,  in  any  case  there's  nothing  worth 
doing  till  May,  and  that's  some  months  ahead.  I'll  do  the 
Academy  for  you  if  you  like." 

"Thank  you.  Won't  Sidney  stare  if  you  pulverize  him  in  The 
Flag  of  Jndah  ?  Some  of  the  pictures  have  also  Jewish  subjects, 
you  know." 

"  Yes,  but  if  I  mistake  not,  they're  invariably  done  by  Chris- 
tian artists." 

"  Nearly  always,"  he  admitted  pensively.  "  I  wish  we  had  a 
Jewish  allegorical  painter  to  express  the  high  conceptions  of  our 
sages." 

"  As  he  would  probably  not  know  what  they  are,"  —  she  mur- 
mured. Then,  seeing  him  rise  as  if  to  go,  she  said:  "Won't 
you  have  a  cup  of  tea?  " 

"No,  don't  trouble,"  he  answered. 

"Oh  yes,  do!"  she  pleaded.     "Or  else  I  shall  think  you're 


A    WOMAN'S   GROWTH.  393 

angry  with  me  for  not  asking  you  before."  And  she  rang  the 
bell.  She  discovered,  to  her  amusement,  that  Raphael  took  two 
pieces  of  sugar  per  cup,  but  that  if  they  were  not  inserted,  he  did 
not  notice  their  absence.  Over  tea,  too,  Raphael  had  a  new  idea, 
this  time  fraught  with  peril  to  the  Sevres  tea-pot. 

"  Why  couldn't  you  write  us  a  Jewish  serial  story?''  he  said 
suddenly.     ''That  would  be  a  novelty  in  communal  journalism.'" 

Esther  looked  startled  by  the  proposition, 

"  How  do  you  know  I  could? ''  she  said  after  a  silence. 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  replied.  '•  Only  I  fancy  you  could.  Why 
not?"  he  said  encouragingly.  "You  don't  know  what  you  can 
do  till  you  try.     Besides  you  write  poetry." 

"The  Jewish  public  doesn't  like  the  looking-glass,"  she  an- 
swered him,  shaking  her  head. 

"Oh,  you  can't  say  that.  They've  only  objected  as  yet  to  the 
distorting  mirror.  You're  thinking  of  the  row  over  that  man 
Armitage's  book.  Now,  why  not  write  an  antidote  to  that  book? 
There  now,  there's  an  idea  for  you." 

"  It  is  an  idea!  "  said  Esther  with  overt  sarcasm.  "  You  think 
art  can  be  degraded  into  an  antidote." 

"  Art  is  not  a  fetish,"  he  urged.  "  What  degradation  is  there 
in  art  teaching  a  noble  lesson? " 

"  Ah,  that  is  what  you  religious  people  will  never  understand," 
she  said  scathingly.     "You  want  everything  to  preach." 

"Everything  does  preach  something,"  he  retorted.  "Why 
not  have  the  sermon  good  ? " 

"  I  consider  the  original  sermon  was  good,"  she  said  defiantly. 
"  It  doesn't  need  an  antidote." 

"  How  can  you  say  that?  Surely,  merely  as  one  who  was  born 
a  Jewess,  you  wouldn't  care  for  the  sombre  picture  drawn  by  this 
Armitage  to  stand  as  a  portrait  of  your  people." 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders  —  the  ungraceful  shrug  of  the 
Ghetto.     "Why  not?     It  is  one-sided,  but  it  is  true." 

"  I  don't  deny  that ;  probably  the  man  was  sincerely  indig- 
nant at  certain  aspects.  I  am  ready  to  allow  he  did  not  even 
see  he  was  one-sided.  But  \i you  see  it,  why  not  show  the  world 
the  other  side  of  the  shield?  " 


394  GRANDCHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

She  put  her  hand  wearily  to  her  brow. 

'•  Do  not  ask  me,"  she  said.  "  To  have  my  work  appreciated 
merely  because  the  moral  tickled  the  reader's  vanity  would  be  a 
mockery.  The  suffrages  of  the  Jewish  public  —  I  might  have 
valued  them  once  ;  now  I  despise  them."  She  sank  further  back 
on  the  chair,  pale  and  silent. 

"Why,  what  harm  have  they  done  you?"  he  asked. 

"They  are  so  stupid,"  she  said,  with  a  gesture  of  distaste. 

"  That  is  a  new  charge  against  the  Jews." 

"'  Look  at  the  way  they  have  denounced  this  Armitage,  saying 
his  book  is  vulgar  and  wretched  and  written  for  gain,  and  all 
because  it  does  not  flatter  them." 

"Can  you  wonder  at  it?  To  say  ^youVe  another'  may  not  be 
criticism,  but  it  is  human  nature." 

Esther  smiled  sadly.     "  I  cannot  make  you  out  at  all,"  she  said. 

"Why?     What  is  there  strange  about  me?" 

"  You  say  such  shrewd,  humorous  things  sometimes ;  I  won- 
der how  you  can  remain  orthodox." 

"Now  I  can't  understand /<?//,"  he  said,  puzzled. 

"Oh  well.  Perhaps  if  you  could,  you  wouldn't  be  orthodox. 
Let  us  remain  mutual  enigmas.     And  will  you  do  me  a  favor?" 

"With  pleasure,"  he  said,  his  face  lighting  up. 

"  Don't  mention  Mr.  Armitage's  book  to  me  again.  I  am  sick 
of  hearing  about  it." 

"So  am  I,"  he  said,  rather  disappointed.  "After  that  dinner 
I  thought  it  only  fair  to  read  it,  and  although  I  detect  consider- 
able crude  power  in  it,  still  I  am  very  sorry  it  was  ever  published. 
The  presentation  of  Judaism  is  most  ignorant.  All  the  mystical 
yearnings  of  the  heroine  might  have  found  as  much  satisfaction 
in  the  faith  of  her  own  race  as  they  find  expression  in  its  poetry." 

He  rose  to  go.  "Well,  I  am  to  take  it  for  granted  you  will 
not  write  that  antidote?" 

"  I'm  afraid  it  would  be  impossible  for  me  to  undertake  it," 
she  said  more  mildly  than  before,  and  pressed  her  hand  again  to 
her  brow. 

"Pardon  me,"  he  said  in  much  concern.  "I  am  too  selfish. 
I  forgot  you  are  not  well.     How  is  your  head  feeling  now?" 


A    WOMAN'S   GROWTH.  395 

"About  the  same,  thank  you/''  she  said,  forcing  a  grateful 
smile.  "  You  may  rely  on  me  for  art ;  yes,  and  music,  too,  if 
you  like.'" 

"Thank  you/'  he  said.     "  You  read  a  great  deal,  don't  you?  " 

She  nodded  her  head.  "Well,  every  week  books  are  published 
of  more  or  less  direct  Jewish  interest.  I  should  be  glad  of  notes 
about  such  to  brighten  up  the  paper.''' 

"For  anything  strictly  unorthodox  you  may  count  on  me.  If 
that  antidote  turns  up,  I  shall  not  fail  to  cackle  over  it  in  your 
columns.  By  the  by,  are  you  going  to  review  the  pofeon?  Ex- 
cuse so  many  mixed  metaphors,"  she  added,  with  a  rather  forced 
laugh. 

"No,  I  shan't  say  anything  about  it.  Why  give  it  an  extra 
advertisement  by  slating  it?  " 

"  Slating,"  she  repeated  with  a  faint  smile.  "  I  see  you  have 
mastered  all  the  slang  of  your  profession." 

"  Ah,  that's  the  influence  of  my  sub-editor,"  he  said,  smiling 
in  return.     "Well,  good-bye.'"' 

"  You're  forgetting  your  overcoat,"  she  said,  and  having 
smoothed  out  that  crumpled  collar,  she  accompanied  him  down 
the  wide  soft-carpeted  staircase  into  the  hall  with  its  rich  bronzes 
and  glistening  statues. 

"  How  are  your  people  in  America?"  he  bethought  himself  to 
ask  on  the  way  down. 

"They  are  very  w^ell,  thank  you,"  she  said.  "I  send  my 
brother  Solomon  The  Flag  of  Judah.  He  is  also,  I  am  afraid, 
one  of  the  unregenerate.  You  see  I  am  doing  my  best  to 
enlarge  your  congregation." 

He  could  not  tell  \vhether  it  was  sarcasm  or  earnest. 

"Well,  good-bye,"  he  said,  holding  out  his  hand.  "Thank 
you  for  your  promise." 

"Oh,  that's  not  worth  thanking  me  for,"  she  said,  touching 
his  long  white  fingers  for  an  instant.  "Look  at  the  glory  of 
seeing  myself  in  print.  I  hope  you're  not  annoyed  with  me 
for  refusing  to  contribute  fiction,"  she  ended,  growing  suddenly 
remorseful  at  the  moment  of  parting. 

"Of  course  not.     How  could  I  be?"  — > 


396  GRANDCHILDREN   OF   THE    GHETTO. 

"  Couldn't  your  sister  Adelaide  do  you  a  story?  " 

"Addie?"  he  repeated  laughing.  "Fancy  Addie  writing 
stories!     Addie  has  no  literary  ability." 

"That's  always  the  way  with  brothers.  Solomon  says  — " 
She  paused  suddenly. 

"  I  don't  remember  for  the  moment  that  Solomon  has  any 
proverb  on  the  subject/'  he  said,  still  amused  at  the  idea  of 
Addie  as  an  authoress. 

"  I  was  thinking  of  something  else.  Good-bye.  Remember 
me  to  your  sister,  please." 

"  Certainly,"  he  said.  Then  he  exclaimed,  "  Oh,  what  a  block- 
head I  ami  I  forgot  to  remember  her  to  you.  She  says  she 
would  be  so  pleased  if  you  would  come  and  have  tea  and  a  chat 
with  her  some  day.  I  should  like  you  and  Addie  to  know  each 
other." 

"  Thanks,  I  will.  I  will  write  to  her  some  day.  Good-bye, 
once  more." 

He  shook  hands  with  her  and  fumbled  at  the  door. 

"Allow  me!"  she  said,  and  opened  it  upon  the  gray  dulness 
of  the  dripping  street.  "When  may  I  hope  for  the  honor  of 
another  visit  from  a  real  live  editor?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  said,  smiling.  "  I'm  awfully  busy.  I  have 
to  read  a  paper  on  Ibn  Ezra  at  Jews'  College  to-day  fortnight." 

"Outsiders  admitted?''  she  asked. 

"  The  lectures  at'e  for  outsiders,"  he  said.  "  To  spread  the 
knowledge  of  our  literature.  Only  they  won't  come.  Have  }ou 
never  been  to  one  ?  " 

She  shook  her  head. 

"There!"  he  said.  "You  complain  of  our  want  of  culture, 
and  you  don't  even  know  what's  going  on." 

She  tried  to  take  the  reproof  with  a  smile,  but  the  corners 
of  her  mouth  quivered.  He  raised  his  hat  and  went  down 
the  steps. 

She  followed  him  a  little  way  along  the  Terrace,  with  eyes 
growing  dim  with  tears  she  could  not  account  for.  She  went 
back  to  the  drawing-room  and  threw  herself  into  the  arm-chair 
where  he  had  sat,  and  made  her  headaciie  worse  by  thinking 


A    WOMAN'S   GROWTH.  397 

of  all  her  unhappiness.  The  great  room  was  filling  with 
dusk,  and  in  the  twilight  pictures  gathered  and  dissolved. 
What  girlish  dreams  and  revolts  had  gone  to  make  that 
unfortunate  book,  which  after  endless  boomerang-like  returns, 
from  the  publishers,  had  appeared,  only  to  be  denounced  by 
Jewry,  ignored  by  its  journals  and  scantily  noticed  by  outside 
criticisms.  Mordecai  Josephs  had  fallen  almost  still-born  from 
the  press ;  the  sweet  secret  she  had  hoped  to  tell  her  pa- 
troness had  turned  bitter  like  that  other  secret  of  her  dead 
love  for  Sidney,  in  the  reaction  from  which  she  had  written 
most  of  her  book.  How  fortunate  at  least  that  her  love  had 
flickered  out,  had  proved  but  the  ephemeral  sentiment  of  a 
romantic  girl  for  the  first  brilliant  man  she  had  met.  Sidney 
had  fascinated  her  by  his  verbal  audacities  in  a  world  of  nar- 
row conventions  ;  he  had  for  the  moment  laughed  away  spirit- 
ual aspirations  and  yearnings  with  a  raillery  that  was  almost 
like  ozone  to  a  young  woman  avid  of  martyrdom  for  the 
happiness  of  the  world.  How,  indeed,  could  she  have  expected 
the  handsome  young  artist  to  feel  the  magic  that  hovered 
about  her  talks  with  him,  to  know  the  thrill  that  lay  in  the 
formal  hand-clasp,  to  be  aware  that  he  interpreted  for  her 
poems  and  pictures,  and  incarnated  the  undefined  ideal  of 
girlish  day-dreams?  How  could  he  ever  have  had  other  than 
an  intellectual  thought  of  her ;  how  could  any  man,  even  the 
religious  Raphael?  Sickly,  ugly  little  thing  that  she  was!  She 
got  up  and  looked  in  the  glass  now  to  see  herself  thus,  but 
the  shadows  had  gathered  too  thickly.  She  snatched  up  a 
newspaper  that  lay  on  a  couch,  lit  it,  and  held  it  before  the 
glass ;  it  flared  up  threateningly  and  she  beat  it  out,  laughing 
hysterically  and  asking  herself  if  she  was  mad.  But  she 
had  seen  the  ugly  little  face ;  its  expression  frightened  her. 
Yes,  love  was  not  for  her ;  she  could  only  love  a  man  of 
brilliancy  and  culture,  and  she  was  nothing  but  a  Petticoat 
Lane  girl,  after  all.  Its  coarseness,  its  vulgarity  underlay 
all  her  veneer.  They  had  got  into  her  book  ;  everybody  said 
so,  Raphael  said  so.  How  dared  she  write  disdainfully  of 
RaphaePs    people?     She   an   upstart,   an   outsider?     She  went 


398  GRANDCHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

to  the  library,  lit  the  gas,  got  down  a  volume  of  Graetz's  history 
of  the  Jews,  which  she  had  latterly  taken  to  reading,  and  turned 
over  its  wonderful  pages.  Then  she  wandered  restlessly  back 
to  the  great  dim  drawing-room  and  played  amateurish  fantasias 
on  the  melancholy  Polish  melodies  of  her  childhood  till  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Henry  Goldsmith  returned.  They  had  captured  the  Rev. 
Joseph  Strelitski  and  brought  him  back  to  dinner.  Esther 
would  have  excused  herself  from  the  meal,  but  Mrs.  Goldsmith 
insisted  the  minister  would  think  her  absence  intentionally  dis- 
courteous. In  point  of  fact,  Mrs.  Goldsmith,  like  all  Jewesses 
a  born  match-maker,  was  not  disinclined  to  think  of  the  popular 
preacher  as  a  sort  of  adopted  son-in-law.  She  did  not  tell  her- 
self so,  but  she  instinctively  resented  the  idea  of  Esther  marry- 
ing into  the  station  of  her  patroness.  Strelitski,  though  his 
position  was  one  of  distinction  for  a  Jewish  clergyman,  was, 
like  Esther,  of  humble  origin  ;  it  would  be  a  match  wliich  she 
could  bless  from  her  pedestal  in  genuine  good-will  towards  both 
parties. 

The  fashionable  minister  was  looking  careworn  and  troubled. 
He  had  aged  twice  ten  years  since  his  outburst  at  the  Holy  Land 
League.  The  black  curl  hung  disconsolately  on  his  forehead. 
He  sat  at  Esther's  side,  but  rarely  looking  at  her,  or  addressing 
her,  so  that  her  taciturnity  and  scarcely-\'eiled  dislike  did  not 
noticeably  increase  his  gloom.  He  rallied  now  and  again  out  of 
politeness  to  his  hostess,  flashing  out  a  pregnant  phrase  or  two. 
But  prosperity  did  not  seem  to  have  brought  happiness  to  the 
whilom  poor  Russian  student,  even  though  he  had  fought  his 
way  to  it  unaided. 


CHAPTER    VL 

COMEDY   OR   TRAGEDY? 

The  weeks  went  on  and  Passover  drew  nigh.  The  recurrence 
of  the  feast  brought  no  thrill  to  Esther  now.  It  was  no  longer  a 
charmed  time.,  with  strange  things  to  eat  and  drink,  and  a  com- 


COMEDY  OR    TRAGEDY?  399 

parative  plenty  of  them  —  stranger  still.  Lack  of  appetite  was 
the  chief  dietary  want  now.  Nobody  had  any  best  clothes  to 
put  on  in  a  world  where  everything  was  for  the  best  in  the  way 
of  clothes.  Except  for  the  speckled  Passover  cakes,  there  was 
hardly  any  external  symptom  of  the  sacred  Festival.  While  the 
Ghetto  was  turning  itself  inside  out,  the  Kensington  Terrace  was 
calm  in  the  dignity  of  continuous  cleanliness.  Nor  did  Henry 
Goldsmith  himself  go  prowling  about  the  house  in  quest  of  va- 
grant crumbs.  Mary  O'Reilly  attended  to  all  that,  and  the 
Goldsmiths  had  implicit  confidence  in  her  fidelity  to  the  tradi- 
tions of  their  faith.  Wherefore,  the  evening  of  the  day  before 
Passover,  instead  of  being  devoted  to  frying  fish  and  provision- 
ing, was  free  for  more  secular  occupations  ;  Esther,  for  example, 
had  arrano^ed  to  go  to  see  the  debut  of  a  new  Hamlet  with  Addie. 
Addie  had  asked  her  to  go,  mentioned  that  Raphael,  who  was 
taking  her,  had  suggested  that  she  should  bring  her  friend.  For 
they  had  become  great  friends,  had  Addie  and  Esther,  ever  since 
Esther  had  gone  to  take  that  cup  of  tea,  with  the  chat  that  is 
more  essential  than  milk  or  sugar. 

The  girls  met  or  wrote  every  week.  Raphael,  Esther  never 
met  nor  heard  from  directly.  She  found  Addie  a  sweet,  lovable 
girl,  full  of  frank  simplicity  and  unquestioning  piety.  Though 
dazzlingly  beautiful,  she  had  none  of  the  coquetry  which  Esther, 
with  a  touch  of  jealousy,  had  been  accustomed  to  associate  with 
beauty,  and  she  had  little  of  the  petty  malice  of  girlish  gossip. 
Esther  summed  her  up  as  Raphael's  heart  without  his  head.  It 
was  unfair,  for  Addie's  own  head  was  by  no  means  despicable. 
But  Esther  was  not  alone  in  taking  eccentric  opinions  as  the 
touchstone  of  intellectual  vigor.  Anyhow,  she  was  distinctly 
happier  since  Addie  had  come  into  her  life,  and  she  admired  her 
as  a  mountain  torrent  might  admire  a  crystal  pool  —  half  envying 
her  happier  temperament. 

The  Goldsmiths  were  just  finishing  dinner,  when  the  expected 
ring  came.  To  their  surprise,  the  ringer  was  Sidney.  He  was 
shown  into  the  dining-room. 

"Good  evening,  all,"  he  said.  "Fve  come  as  a  substitute  for 
Raphael." 


400  GRANDCHILDREN   OF  THE    GHETTO. 

Esther  grew  white.  "  Why,  what  has  happened  to  him  ? ''  she 
asked. 

"  Nothing.  I  had  a  telegram  to  say  he  was  unexpectedly  de- 
tained in  the  city,  and  asking  me  to  take  Addie  and  to  call  for 
you." 

Esther  turned  from  white  to  red.  How  rude  of  Raphael! 
How  disappointing  not  to  meet  him,  after  all !  And  did  he  think 
she  could  thus  unceremoniously  be  handed  over  to  somebody 
else?  She  was  about  to  beg  to  be  excused,  when  it  struck  her  a 
refusal  would  look  too  pointed.  Besides,  she  did  not  fear  Sid- 
ney now.  It  would  be  a  test  of  her  indiiference.  So  she  mur- 
mured instead,  "What  can  detain  him?" 

"  Charity,  doubtless.  Do  you  know,  that  after  he  is  fagged 
out  with  upholding  the  Flag  from  early  morning  till  late  eve,  he 
devotes  the  later  eve  to  gratuitous  tuition,  lecturing  and  the 
like." 

"  No,"  said  Esther,  softened^  "■  I  knew  he  came  home  late, 
but  I  thought  he  had  to  report  communal  meetings." 

"That,  too.  But  Addie  tells  me  he  never  came  home  at  all 
one  night  last  week.  He  was  sitting  up  with  some  wretched 
dying  pauper." 

"  He'll  kill  himself,"  said  Esther,  anxiously. 

"  People  are  right  about  him.  He  is  quite  hopeless,"  said 
Percy  Saville,  the  solitary  guest,  tapping  his  forehead  signifi- 
cantly. 

"'  Perhaps  it  is  we  who  are  hopeless,"  said  Esther,  sharply. 

"I  wish  we  were  all  as  sensible,"  said  Mrs.  Henry  Goldsmith, 
turning  on  the  unhappy  stockbroker  with  her  most  superior  air. 
"  Mr.  Leon  always  reminds  me  of  Judas  Maccabaeus." 

He  shrank  before  the  blaze  of  her  mature  beauty,  the  fulness 
of  her  charms  revealed  by  her  rich  evening  dress,  her  hair  radi- 
ating strange,  subtle  perfume.  His  eye  sought  Mr.  Goldsmith's 
for  refuge  and  consolation. 

"  That  is  so,"  said  Mr.  Goldsmith,  rubbing  his  red  chin.  "  He 
is  an  excellent  young  man." 

"  May  I  trouble  you  to  put  on  your  things  at  once.  Miss 
Ansell?"  said  Sidney.     "I  have  left  Addie  in  the  carriage,  and 


COMEDY   OR    TRAGEDY?  401 

we  are  rather  late.  I  believe  it  is  usual  for  ladies  to  put  on 
^things/  even  when  in  evening  dress.  I  may  mention  that  there 
is  a  bouquet  for  you  in  the  carriage,  and,  however  unworthy  a 
substitute  I  may  be  for  Raphael,  I  may  at  least  claim  he  would 
have  forgotten  to  bring  you  that." 

Esther  smiled  despite  herself  as  she  left  the  room  to  get  her 
cloak.  She  was  chagrined  and  disappointed,  but  she  resolved 
not  to  inflict  her  ill-humor  on  her  companions. 

She  had  long  since  got  used  to  carriages,  and  when  they 
arrived  at  the  theatre,  she  took  her  seat  in  the  box  without 
heart-fluttering.  It  was  an  old  discovery  now  that  boxes  had 
no  connection  with  oranges  nor  stalls  with  costers'  barrows. 

The  house  was  brilliant.  The  orchestra  was  playing  the  over- 
ture. 

"  I  wish  Mr.  Shakspeare  would  write  a  new  play,"  grumbled 
Sidney.  "All  these  revivals  make  him  lazy.  Heavens!  what 
his  fees  must  tot  up  to!  If  I  were  not  sustained  by  the  presence 
of  you  two  girls,  I  should  no  more  survive  the  fifth  act  than  most 
of  the  characters.  Why  don't  they  brighten  the  piece  up  with 
ballet-girls  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  suppose  you  blessed  Mr.  Leon  when  you  got  his  tele- 
gram," said  Esther.  "  What  a  bore  it  must  be  to  you  to  be  sad- 
dled with  his  duties!" 

"  Awful !  "  admitted  Sidney  gravely.  "  Besides,  it  interferes 
with  my  work." 

"Work?"  said  Addie.  "You  know  you  only  work  by  sun- 
light." 

"  Yes.  that's  the  best  of  my  profession  —  in  England.  It  gives 
you  such  opportunities  of  working — at  other  professions." 

"Why,  what  do  you  work  at?"  inquired  Esther,  laughing. 

"  Well,  there's  amusement,  the  most  difficult  of  all  things  to 
achieve!  Then  there's  poetry.  You  don't  know  what  a  dab  I 
am  at  rondeaux  and  barcarolles.  And  I  write  music,  too,  lovely 
little  serenades  to  my  lady-loves  and  reveries  that  are  like  dainty 
pastels." 

"All  the  talents!"  said  Addie,  looking  at  him  with  a  fond 
smile.     "  But  if  you  have  any  time  to  spare  from  the  curling  of 

2D 


402  GRANDCHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

your  lovely  silken  moustache,  which  is  entirely  like  a  delicate 
pastel,  will  you  kindly  tell  me  what  celebrities  are  present?'' 

"  Yes,  do,''  added  Esther.  ''  I  have  only  been  to  two  first 
nights,  and  then  I  had  nobody  to  point  out  the  lions." 

"Well,  first  of  all  I  see  a  very  celebrated  painter  in  a  box  —  a 
man  who  has  improved  considerably  on  the  weak  draughtsman- 
ship displayed  by  Nature  in  her  human  figures,  and  the  amateur- 
ishness of  her  glaring  sunsets." 

"Who's  that?"  inquired  Addie  and  Esther  eagerly. 

"I  think  he  calls  himself  Sidney  Graham  —  but  that  of  course 
is  only  a  noin  de  pinceau.'''' 

"Oh! "  said  the  girls,  with  a  reproachful  smile. 

"  Do  be  serious!  "  said  Esther.  "  Who  is  that  stout  gentleman 
with  the  bald  head?"  She  peered  down  curiously  at  the  stalls 
through  her  opera-glass. 

"What,  the  lion  without  the  mane?  That's  Tom  Day,  the 
dramatic  critic  of  a  dozen  papers.  A  terrible  Philistine.  Lucky 
for  Sliakspeare  he  didn't  flourish  in  Elizabethan  times." 

He  rattled  on  till  the  curtain  rose  and  the  hushed  audience 
settled  down  to  the  enjoyment  of  the  tragedy. 

"  This  looks  as  if  it  is  going  to  be  the  true  Hamlet,"  said 
Esther,  after  the  first  act. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  the  true  Hamlet?"  queried  Sidney 
cynically. 

"The  Hamlet  for  whom  life  is  at  once  too  big  and  too  little," 
said  Esther. 

"  And  who  was  at  once  mad  and  sane,"  laughed  Sidney. 
"The  plain  truth  is  that  Shakspeare  followed  the  old  tale,  and 
what  you  take  for  subtlety  is  but  the  blur  of  uncertain  handling. 
Aha!     You  look  shocked.     Have  I  found  your  religion  at  last?" 

"  No  ;  my  reverence  for  our  national  bard  is  based  on  reason," 
rejoined  Esther  seriously.  "To  conceive  Hamlet,  the  typical 
ninteenth-century  intellect,  in  that  bustling  picturesque  Eliza- 
bethan time  was  a  creative  feat  bordering  on  the  miraculous. 
And  then,  look  at  the  solemn  inexorable  march  of  destiny  in  his 
tragedies,  awful  as  its  advance  in  the  Greek  dramas.  Just  as  the 
marvels  of  the  old  fairy-tales  were   an  instinctive  prevision  of 


COMEDY  OR    TRAGEDY?  403 

the  miracles  of  modern  science,  so  this  idea  of  destiny  seems  to 
me  an  instinctive  anticipation  of  the  formulas  of  modern  science. 
What  we  want  to-day  is  a  dramatist  who  shall  show  us  the 
great  natural  silent  forces,  working  the  weal  and  woe  of  human 
life  through  the  illusions  of  consciousness  and  free  will/' 

"What  you  want  to-night,  Miss  Ansell,  is  black  coffee,"  said 
Sidney,  ''and  Fll  tell  tlie  attendant  to  get  you  a  cup,  for  I 
dragged  you  away  from  dinner  before  tlie  crown  and  climax  of 
the  meal ;  I  have  always  noticed  myself  that  when  I  am  inter- 
rupted in  my  meals,  all  sorts  of  bugbears,  scientilic  or  otherwise, 
take  possession  of  my  mind/' 

He  called  the  attendant. 

"Esther  has  the  most  nonsensical  opinions,"  said  Addie 
gravely.  "As  if  people  weren't  responsible  for  their  actions! 
Do  good  and  all  shall  be  well  with  thee,  is  sound  Bible  teaching 
and  sound  common  sense." 

"  Yes,  but  isn't  it  the  Bible  that  says,  '  The  fathers  have  eaten 
a  sour  grape  and  the  teeth  of  the  children  are  set  on  edge'?" 
Esther  retorted. 

Addie  looked  perplexed.  "It  sounds  contradictory,"  she  said 
honestly. 

"Not  at  all,  Addie,"  said  Esther.  "The  Bible  is  a  literature, 
not  a  book.  If  you  choose  to  bind  Tennyson  and  Milton  in 
one  volume  that  doesn't  make  them  a  book.  And  you  can't 
complain  if  you  find  contradictions  in  the  text.  Don't  you 
think  the  sour  grape  text  the  truer,  Mr.  Graham?" 

"Don't  ask  me,  please.  Tm  prejudiced  against  anything  that 
appears  in  the  Bible." 

In  his  flippant  way  Sidney  spoke  the  truth.  He  had  an  almost 
physical  repugnance  for  his  fathers'  ways  of  looking  at  things. 

"  I  think  youVe  the  two  most  wicked  people  in  the  world," 
exclaimed  Addie  gravely. 

"We  are,"  said  Sidney  lightly.  "I  wonder  you  consent  to 
sit  in  the  same  box  with  us.  How  you  can  find  my  company 
endurable  I  can  never  make  out." 

Addie's  lovely  face  flushed  and  her  lip  quivered  a  little. 

"  It's  your   friend  who's    the  wickeder   of  the    two,"  pursued 


404  GRANDCHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

Sidney.  "  For  she's  in  earnest  and  Pm  not.  Life's  too  short 
for  us  to  take  the  world's  troubles  on  our  shoulders,  not  to  speak 
of  the  unborn  millions.  A  little  light  and  joy,  the  flush  of  sun- 
set or  of  a  lovely  woman's  face,  a  fleeting  strain  of  melody,  the 
scent  of  a  rose,  the  flavor  of  old  wine,  the  flash  of  a  jest,  and 
ah,  yes,  a  cup  of  coffee — here's  yours.  Miss  Ansell  —  that's  the 
most  we  can  hope  for  in  life.  Let  us  start  a  religion  with  one 
commandment :  '  Enjoy  thyself.'  " 

"  That  religion  has  too  many  disciples  already,"  said  Esther, 
stirring  her  coff'ee. 

"  Then  why  not  start  it  if  you  wish  to  reform  the  world," 
asked  Sidney.  "All  religions  survive  merely  by  being  broken. 
With  only  one  commandment  to  break,  everybody  would  jump 
at  the  chance.  But  so  long  as  you  tell  people  they  mustn't  enjoy 
themselves,  they  will.  It's  human  nature,  and  you  can't  alter  that 
by  Act  of  Parliament  or  Confession  of  Faith.  Christ  ran  amuck 
at  human  nature,  and  human  nature  celebrates  his  birthday  with 
pantomimes." 

"Christ  understood  human  nature  better  than  the  modern 
young  man,"  said  Esther  scathingly,  "and  the  proof  lies  in  the 
almost  limitless  impress  he  has  left  on  history." 

"Oh,  that  was  a  fluke,"  said  Sidney  lightly.  "His  real  influ- 
ence is  only  superficial.  Scratch  the  Christian  and  you  find  the 
Pagan  —  spoiled." 

"  He  divined  by  genius  what  science  is  slowly  finding  out," 
said  Esther,  "when  he  said,  '  Forgive  them  for  they  know  not 
what  they  do  '  !  —  " 

Sidney  laughed  heartily.  "That  seems  to  be  your  King 
Charles's  head  —  seeing  divinations  of  modern  science  in  all  the 
old  ideas.  Personally  I  honor  him  for  discovering  that  the 
Sabbath  was  made  for  man,  not  man  for  the  Sabbath.  Strange 
he  should  have  stopped  half-way  to  the  truth!" 

"What  is  the  truth?"  asked  Addie  curiously. 

"Why,  that  morality  was  made  for  man,  not  man  for  moral- 
itv,"  said  Sidnev.  "  That  chimera  of  meaningrless  virtue  which 
the  Hebrew  has  brought  into  the  world  is  the  last  monster  left 
to  slay.     The  Hebrew  view  of  life  is  too  one-sided.     The  Bible 


COMEDY   OR    TRAGEDY?  405 

is  a  literature  without  a  laugh  in  it.  Even  Raphael  thinks  the 
great  Radical  of  Galilee  carried  spirituality  too  far." 

"Yes,  he  thinks  he  would  have  been  reconciled  to  the  Jewish 
doctors  and  would  have  understood  them  better,"  said  Addie, 
"  only  he  died  so  young." 

"That's  a  good  way  of  putting  it!"  said  Sidney- admiringly. 
"  One  can  see  Raphael  is  my  cousin  despite  his  religious  aberra- 
tions. It  opens  up  new  historical  vistas.  Only  it  is  just  like 
Raphael  to  find  excuses  for  everybody,  and  Judaism  in  every- 
thing. I  am  sure  he  considers  the  devil  a  good  Jew  at  heart ; 
if  he  admits  any  moral  obliquity  in  him,  he  puts  it  down  to  the 
climate." 

This  made  Esther  laugh  outright,  even  while  there  were  tears 
for  Raphael  in  the  laugh.  Sidney's  intellectual  fascination  re- 
asserted itself  over  her;  there  seemed  something  inspiring  in 
standing  wdth  him  on  the  free  heights  that  left  all  the  clogging 
vapors  and  fogs  of  moral  problems  somewhere  below  ;  where  the 
sun  shone  and  the  clear  wind  blew  and  talk  was  a  game  of  bowls 
with  Puritan  ideals  for  ninepins.  He  went  on  amusing  her  till 
the  curtain  rose,  with  a  pretended  theory  of  Mohammedology 
which  he  was  working  at.  Just  as  for  the  Christian  Apologist 
the  Old  Testament  was  full  of  hints  of  the  New,  so  he  contended 
was  the  New  Testament  full  of  foreshado wings  of  the  Koran, 
and  he  cited  as  a  most  convincing  text,  "  In  Heaven,  there  shall 
be  no  marrying,  nor  giving  in  marriage."  He  professed  to  think 
that  Mohammedanism  was  the  dark  horse  that  would  come  to 
the  front  in  the  race  of  religions  and  win  in  the  west  as  it  had 
won  in  the  east. 

"  There's  a  man  staring  dreadfully  at  you,  Esther,"  said  Addie, 
when  the  curtain  fell  on  the  second  act. 

"Nonsense!"  said  Esther,  reluctantly  returning  from  the 
realities  of  the  play  to  the  insipidities  of  actual  life.  "  Who- 
ever it  is,  it  must  be  at  you." 

She  looked  aiTectionately  at  the  great  glorious  creature  at  her 
side,  tall  and  stately,  with  that  winning  gentleness  of  expression 
which  spiritualizes  tlie  most  voluptuous  beauty.  Addie  wore 
pale  sea-green,  and  there  were  lilies  of  the  valley  at  her  bosom, 


406  GRANDCHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

and  a  diamond  star  in  her  hair.  No  man  could  admire  her 
more  than  Esther,  who  felt  quite  vain  of  her  friend^s  beauty  and 
happy  to  bask  in  its  reflected  sunshine.  Sidney  followed  her 
glance  and  his  cousin's  charms  stiiick  him  with  almost  novel 
freshness.  He  was  so  much  with  Addie  that  he  always  took 
her  for  granted.  The  semi-unconscious  liking  he  had  for  her 
society  was  based  on  other  than  physical  traits.  He  let  his 
eyes  rest  upon  her  for  a  moment  in  half-surprised  appreciation, 
figuring  her  as  half-bud,  half-blossom.  Really,  if  Addie  had 
not  been  his  cousin  and  a  Jewess!  She  was  not  much  of  a 
cousin,  when  he  came  to  cipher  it  out,  but  then  she  was  a  good 
deal  of  a  Jewess ! 

"  Tm  sure  it's  you  he's  staring  at,"  persisted  Addie. 

"  Don't  be  ridiculous,"  persisted  Esther.  "  Which  man  do 
you  mean  ? " 

"There!  The  fifth  row  of  stalls,  the  one,  two,  four,  seven, 
the  seventh  man  from  the  end!  He's  been  looking  at  you  all 
through,  but  now  he's  gone  in  for  a  good  long  stare.  There! 
next  to  that  pretty  girl  in  pink." 

"  Do  you  mean  the  young  man  with  the  dyed  carnation  in  his 
buttonhole  and  the  crimson  handkerchief  in  his  bosom  ? " 

"  Yes,  that's  the  one.     Do  you  know  him  ? " 

"  No,"  said  Esther,  lowering  her  eyes  and  looking  away. 
But  when  Addie  informed  her  that  the  young  man  liad  renewed 
his  attentions  to  the  girl  in  pink,  she  levelled  her  opera-glass  at 
him.     Then  she  shook  her  head. 

"  There  seems  something  familiar  about  his  face,  but  I  cannot 
for  the  life  of  me  recall  who  it  is." 

"  The  something  familiar  about  his  face  is  his  nose,"  said 
Addie  laughing,  "  for  it  is  emphatically  Jewish." 

"  At  that  rate."  said  Sidney,  ''  nearly  half  the  theatre  would 
be  familiar,  including  a  goodly  proportion  of  the  critics,  and 
Hamlet  and  Ophelia  themselves.     But  I  know  the  fellow." 

"You  do?     Who  is  he?"  asked  the  girls  eagerly. 

"  I  don't  know.  He's  one  of  the  mashers  of  the  Frivolity. 
I'm  another,  and  so  we  often  meet.  But  we  never  speak  as  we 
pass  by.     To  tell  the  truth,  I  resent  him." 


COMEDY   OR    TRAGEDY?  407 

rit's  wonderful  how  fond  Jews  are  of  the  theatre/'  said 
EstlTer,  •'  and  how  they  resent  other  Jews  going/' 

"  Thank  you/'  said  Sidney.  "  But  as  Fm  not  a  Jew  the  arrow 
glances  off." 

"Not  a  Jew?  "  repeated  Esther  in  amaze. 

"  No.     Not  in  the  current  sense,  (j^lways  deny  Fm  a  Jew." 

"  How  do  you  justify  that?  "  said  Addie  incredulously. 
C"  Because  it  would  be  a  lie  to  say  I  was.  It  would  be  to  pro- 
duce a  false  impression.  The  conception  of  a  Jew  in  the  mind 
of  the  average  Christian  is  a  mixture  of  Fagin,  Shylock,  Roths- 
child and  the  caricatures  of  the  American  comic  papers.  I  am 
certainly  not  like  that,  and  Fm  not  going  to  tell  a  lie  and  say 
I  am.  In  conversation  always  think  of  your  audience.  It  takes 
two  to  make  a  truth.  If  an  honest  man  told  an  old  lady  he  was 
an  atheist,  that  would  be  a  lie,  for  to  her  it  would  mean  he  was 
a  dissolute  reprobate.  To  call  myself  '  Abrahams '  would  be  to 
live  a  daily  lie.  I  am  not  a  bit  like  the  picture  called  up  by 
Abrahams.     Graham  is  a  far  truer  expression  of  myself."  / 

"  Extremely  ingenious,"  said  Esther  smiling.  "  But  ought  you 
not  rather  to  utilize  yourself  for  the  correction  of  the  portrait  of 
Abrahams  ? " 

Sidney  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  Why  should  I  subject  my- 
self to  petty  martyrdom  for  the  sake  of  an  outworn  creed  and  a 
decaying  sect? " 

"We  are  not  decaying,"  said  Addie  indignantly. 

"  Personally  you  are  blossoming,"  said  Sidney,  with  a  mock 
bow.  "  But  nobody  can  deny  that  our  recent  religious  history 
has  been  a  series  of  dissolving  views.  Look  at  that  young 
masher  there,  who  is  still  ogling  your  fascinating  friend  ;  rather, 
I  suspect,  to  the  annoyance  of  the  young  lady  in  pink,  and 
compare  him  with  the  old  hard-shell  Jew.  When  I  was  a  lad 
named  Abrahams,  painfully  training  in  the  way  I  wasn't  going 
to  go,  I  got  an  insight  into  the  lives  of  my  ancestors.  Think 
of  the  people  who  built  up  the  Jewish  prayer-book,  w^ho  added 
line  to  line  and  precept  to  precept,  and  whose  whole  thought 
was  intertwined  with  religion,  and  then  look  at  that  young 
fellow  with  the  dyed  carnation  and  the  crimson  silk  handker- 


408  GRANDCHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

chief,  who  probably  drives  a  drag  to  the  Derby,  and  for  aught 
I  know  runs  a  music  hall.  It  seems  almost  incredible  he  should 
come  of  that  Puritan  old  stock." 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  Esther.  "  If  you  knew  more  of  our  history, 
you  would  see  it  is  quite  normal.  We  were  always  hankering 
after  the  gods  of  the  heathen,  and  we  always  loved  magnifi- 
cence ;  remember  our  Temples.  In  every  land  we  have  produced 
great  merchants  and  rulers,  prime- ministers,  viziers,  nobles. 
We  built  castles  in  Spain  (solid  ones)  and  palaces  in  Venice. 
We  have  had  saints  and  sinners,  free  livers  and  ascetics,  martyrs 
and  money-lenders.  Polarity,  Graetz  calls  the  self-contradiction 
which  runs  through  our  history.  I  figure  the  Jew  as  the  eldest- 
born  of  Time,  touching  the  Creation  and  reaching  forward  into 
the  future,  the  true  blase  of  the  Universe ;  the  Wandering  Jew 
who  has  been  everywhere,  seen  everything,  done  everything,  led 
everything,  thought  everything  and  suffered  everything." 

"  Bravo,  quite  a  bit  of  Beaconsfieldian  fustian,"  said  Sidney 
laughing,  yet  astonished.  ''  One  would  think  you  were  anxious 
to  assert  yourself  against  the  ancient  peerage  of  this  mushroom 
realm." 

"It  is  the  bare  historical  truth,"  said  Esther,  quietly.  "We 
are  so  ignorant  of  our  own  history — can  we  wonder  at  the 
world's  ignorance  of  it?  Think  of  the  part  the  Jew  has  played 
—  Moses  giving  the  world  its  morality,  Jesus  its  religion,  Isaiah 
its  millennial  visions,  Spinoza  its  cosmic  philosophy,  Ricardo  its 
political  economy,  Karl  Marx  and  Lassalle  its  socialism,  Heine 
its  loveliest  poetry,  Mendelssohn  its  most  restful  music,  Rachael 
its  supreme  acting  —  and  then  think  of  the  stock  Jew  of  the 
American  comic  papers!  Tliere  lies  the  real  comedy,  too  deep 
for  laughter." 

"  Yes,  but  most  of  the  Jews  you  mention  were  outcasts  or 
apostates,"  retorted  Sidney.  "  There  lies  the  real  tragedy,  too 
deep  for  tears.  Ah,  Heine  summed  it  up  best :  '  Judaism  is  not 
a  religion  ;  it  is  a  misfortune.'  But  do  you  wonder  at  the  intol- 
erance of  every  nation  towards  its  Jews?  It  is  a  form  of  hom- 
age. Tolerate  them  and  they  spell  '  Success,'  and  patriotism  is 
an  ineradicable  prejudice.     Since  when  have  you  developed  this 


COMEDY  OR    TRAGEDY?  409 

extraordinary  enthusiasm  for  Jewisli  history  ?  I  always  thought 
you  were  an  anti-Semite." 

Esther  blushed  and  meditatively  sniffed  at  her  bouquet,  but 
fortunately  the  rise  of  the  curtain  relieved  her  of  the  necessity  for 
a  reply.  It  was  only  a  temporary  relief,  however,  for  the  quiz- 
zical young  artist  returned  to  the  subject  immediately  the  act 
was  over. 

"  I  know  you're  in  charge  of  the  aesthetic  department  of  the 
Flag^''  he  said.     "  I  had  no  idea  you  wrote  the  leaders." 

"Don't  be  absurd!  "  murmured  Esther. 

"  I  always  told  Addie  Raphael  could  never  write  so  eloquently  ; 
didn't  I,  Addie  ?  Ah,  I  see  you're  blushing  to  find  it  fame,  Miss 
Ansell." 

Esther  laughed,  though  a  bit  annoyed.  "  How  can  you  sus- 
pect me  of  writing  orthodox  leaders?  "  she  asked. 

'•Well,  who  else /i-  there?  "  urged  Sidney,  with  mock  naivete. 
"  I  went  down  there  once  and  saw  the  shanty.  The  editorial 
sanctum  was  crowded.  Poor  Raphael  was  surrounded  by  the 
queerest  looking  set  of  creatures  I  ever  clapped  eyes  on.  There 
was  a  quaint  lunatic  in  a  check  suit,  describing  his  apocalyptic 
visions  ;  a  dragoman  with  sore  eyes  and  a  grievance  against  the 
Board  of  Guardians  ;  a  venerable  son  of  Jerusalem  with  a  most 
artistic  white  beard,  who  had  covered  the  editorial  table  with 
carved  nick-nacks  in  olive  and  sandal-wood ;  an  inventor  who 
had  squared  the  circle  and  the  problem  of  perpetual  motion,  but 
could  not  support  himself;  a  Roumanian  exile  with  a  scheme  for 
fertilizing  Palestine  ;  and  a  wild-eyed  hatchet-faced  Hebrew  poet 
who  told  me  I  was  a  famous  patron  of  learning,  and  sent  me  his 
book  soon  after  with  a  Hebrew  inscription  which  I  couldn't  read, 
and  a  request  for  a  cheque  which  I  didn't  write.  I  thought  I  just 
capped  the  company  of  oddities,  when  in  came  a  sallow  red- 
haired  chap,  with  the  extraordinary  name  of  Karlkammer,  and 
kicked  up  a  deuce  of  a  shine  with  Raphael  for  altering  his  letter. 
Raphael  mildly  hinted  that  the  letter  was  written  in  such  unin- 
telligible English  that  he  had  to  grapple  with  it  for  an  hour 
before  he  could  reduce  it  to  the  coherence  demanded  of  print. 
But  it  was  no  use  ;  it  seems  Raphael  had  made  him  say  some- 


410  GRANDCHILDREN  OF  THE    GHETTO. 

thing  heterodox  he  didn't  mean,  and  he  insisted  on  being 
allowed  to  reply  to  his  own  letter!  He  had  brought  the  counter- 
blast with  him ;  six  sheets  of  foolscap  with  all  the  t's  uncrossed, 
and  insisted  on  signing  it  with  his  own  name.  I  said,  '  Why 
not?  Set  a  Karikammer  to  answer  to  a  Karlkammer/  But 
Raphael  said  it  would  make  the  paper  a  laughing-stock,  and 
between  the  dread  of  that  and  the  consciousness  of  having  done 
the  man  a  wrong,  he  was  quite  unhappy.  He  treats  all  his  visit- 
ors with  angelic  consideration,  when  in  another  newspaper  office 
the  very  office-boy  would  snub  them.  Of  course,  nobody  has  a 
bit  of  consideration  for  him  or  his  time  or  his  purse." 

"  Poor  Raphael!  "  murmured  Esther,  smiling  sadly  at  the  gro- 
tesque images  conjured  up  by  Sidney's  description. 

"  I  go  down  there  now  whenever  I  want  models,''  concluded 
Sidney  gravely. 

"  Well,  it  is  only  right  to  hear  what  those  poor  people  have  to 
say,"  Addie  observed.  "  What  is  a  paper  for  except  to  right 
wrongs?" 

'' Primitive  person!  "  said  Sidney.  "A  paper  exists  to  make 
a  profit." 

"Raphael's  doesn't,"  retorted  Addie. 

"  Of  course  not,"  laughed  Sidney.  "  It  never  will,  so  long  as 
there's  a  conscientious  editor  at  the  helm.  Raphael  flatters 
nobody  and  reserves  his  praises  for  people  with  no  control  of 
the  communal  advertisements.  Why,  it  quite  preys  upon  his  mind 
to  think  that  he  is  linked  to  an  advertisement  canvasser  with  a 
gorgeous  imagination,  who  goes  about  representing  to  the  unwary 
Christian  that  the  Flag  has  a  circulation  of  fifteen  hundred." 

''Dear  me!"  said  Addie,  a  smile  of  humor  lighting  up  her 
beautiful  features. 

"  Yes,"  said  Sidney,  "  I  think  he  salves  his  conscience  by  an 
extra  hour's  slumming  in  the  evening.  Most  religious  folks  do 
their  moral  book-keeping  by  double  entry.  Probably  that's  why 
he's  not  here  to-night." 

''It's  too  bad!"  said  Addie.  her  face  growing  grave  again. 
'"  He  comes  home  so  late  and  so  tired  that  he  always  falls  asleep 
over  his  books." 


COMEDY   OR    TRAGEDY?  411 

"I  don't  wonder,"'  laughed  Sidney.  "Look  what  he  reads! 
Once  I  found  hhn  nodding  peacefully  over  Thomas  a  Kempis." 

'•  Oh,  he  often  reads  that,''  said  Addie.  "  When  we  wake  him 
up  and  tell  him  to  go  to  bed,  he  says  he  wasn't  sleeping,  but 
thinking,  turns  over  a  page  and  falls  asleep  again.'' 

They  all  laughed. 

"Oh,  he's  a  famous  sleeper,"  Addie  continued.  "  It's  as  diffi- 
cult to  get  him  out  of  bed  as  into  it.  He  says  himself  he's  an 
awful  lounger  and  used  to  idle  away  whole  days  before  he  in- 
vented time-tables.  Now,  he  has  every  hour  cut  and  dried —  he 
says  his  salvation  lies  in  regular  hours." 

"  Addie,  Addie,  don't  tell  tales  out  of  school,"  said  Sidney. 

"Why,  what  tales?"  asked  Addie,  astonished.  "Isn't  it 
rather  to  his  credit  that  he  has  conquered  his  bad  habits?" 

"  Undoubtedly ;  but  it  dissipates  the  poetry  in  which  I  am 
sure  Miss  Ansell  was  enshrouding  him.  It  shears  a  man  of  his 
heroic  proportions,  to  hear  he  has  to  be  dragged  out  of  bed. 
These  things  should  be  kept  in  the  family." 

Esther  stared  hard  at  the  house.  Her  cheeks  glowed  as  if 
the  limelight  man  had  turned  his  red  rays  on  them.  Sidney 
chuckled  mentally  over  his  insight.     Addie  smiled. 

"Oh,  nonsense.  I'm  sure  Esther  doesn't  think  less  of  him 
because  he  keeps  a  time-table." 

"  You  forget  your  friend  has  what  you  haven't — artistic  instinct. 
It's  ugly.  A  man  should  be  a  man,  not  a  railway  system.  If  I  were 
you,  Addie,  I'd  capture  that  time-table,  erase  lecturing  and  substi- 
tute '  cricketing.'  Raphael  would  never  know,  and  every  afternoon, 
say  at  2  p.m.,  he'd  consult  his  time-table,  and  seeing  he  had  to 
cricket,  he'd  take  up  his  stumps  and  walk  to  Regent's  Park." 

"Yes,  but  he  can't  play  cricket,"  said  Esther,  laughing  and 
glad  of  the  opportunity. 

"Oh,  can't  he?"  Sidney  whistled.  "Don't  insult  him  by  tell- 
\\\Z  him  that.  Whv,  he  was  in  the  Harrow  eleven  and  scored 
his  century  in  the  match  with  Eton  ;  those  long  arms  of  his  send 
the  ball  flying  as  if  it  were  a  drawing-room  ornament." 

"  Oh  yes,"  affirmed  Addie.  "  Even  now,  cricket  is  his  one 
temptation." 


412  GRANDCHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

Esther  was  silent.  Her  Raphael  seemed  toppling  to  pieces. 
The  silence  seemed  to  communicate  itself  to  her  companions. 
Addie  broke  it  by  sending  Sidney  to  smoke  a  cigarette  in  the 
lobby.  "Or  else  I  shall  feel  quite  too  selfish,"  she  said.  "I 
know  you're  just  dying  to  talk  to  some  sensible  people.  Oh, 
I  beg  your  pardon,  Esther." 

The  squire  of  dames  smiled  but  hesitated. 

"  Yes,  do  go,"  said  Esther.  "  There's  six  or  seven  minutes 
more  interval.     This  is  the  longest  wait." 

"  Ladies'  will  is  my  law,"  said  Sidney,  gallantly,  and,  taking  a 
cigarette  case  from  his  cloak,  which  was  hung  on  a  peg  at  the 
back  of  a  box,  he  strolled  out.  "  Perhaps,"  he  said,  "  I  shall 
skip  some  Shakspeare  if  I  meet  a  congenial  intellectual  soul  to 
gossip  with." 

He  had  scarce  been  gone  two  minutes  when  there  came  a 
gentle  tapping  at  the  door  and,  the  visitor  being  invited  to  come 
in,  the  girls  were  astonished  to  behold  the  young  gentleman 
with  the  dyed  carnation  and  the  crimson  silk  handkerchief.  He 
looked  at  Esther  with  an  affable  smile. 

"Don't  you  remember  me?"  he  said.  The  ring  of  his  voice 
woke  some  far-off  echo  in  her  brain.  But  no  recollection  came 
to  her. 

"  I  remembered  you  almost  at  once,"  he  went  on,  in  a  half- 
reproachful  tone,  "  though  I  didn't  care  about  coming  up  while 
you  had  another  fellow  in  the  box.  Look  at  me  carefully, 
Esther." 

The  sound  of  her  name  on  the  stranger's  lips  set  all  the  chords 
of  memory  vibrating — she  looked  again  at  the  dark  oval  fiice 
with  the  aquiline  nose,  the  glittering  eyes,  the  neat  black  mous- 
tache, the  close-shaved  cheeks  and  chin,  and  in  a^ash  the  past 
resurged  and  she  murmured  almost  incredulously,V"  Levi !  " 

The  young  man  got  rather  red.  "Ye-e-s!"  he  stammered. 
''Allow  me  to  present  you  my  card."  He  took  it  out  of  a  little 
ivory  case  and  handed  it  to  her.  It  read,  "Mr.  Leonard 
JameTA 

An^used  smile  flitted  over  Esther's  face,  passing  into  one  of 
welcome.     She  was  not  at  all  displeased  to  see  him. 


COMEDY  OR    TRAGEDY?  413 

"Addie/'she  said.  "This  is  Mr.  Leonard  James,  a  friend  I 
used  to  know  in  my  girlhood." 

"  Yes,  we  were  boys  together,  as  the  song  says/'  said  Leonard 
James,  smiling  facetiously. 

Addie  inclined  her  head  in  the  stately  fashion  which  accorded 
so  well  with  her  beauty  and  resumed  her  investigation  of  the 
stalls.  Presently  she  became  absorbed  in  a  tender  reverie 
induced  by  the  passionate  waltz  music  and  she  forgot  all  about 
Esther's  strange  visitor,  whose  words  fell  as  insensibly  on  her 
ears  as  the  ticking  of  a  familiar  clock.  But  to  Esther,  Leonard 
James's  conversation  was  full  of  interest.  The  two  ugly  duck- 
lings of  the  back-pond  had  become  to  all  appearance  swans 
of  the  ornamental  water,  and  it  was  natural  that  they  should 
gabble  of  auld  lang  syne  and  the  devious  routes  by  which  they 
had  come  together  again. 

"You  see,  Fm  like  you,  Esther,"  explained  the  young  man. 
"  Em  not  fitted  for  the  narrow  life  that  suits  my  father  and 
mother  and  my  sister.  TheyVe  got  no  ideas  beyond  the  house, 
and  religion,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing.  What  do  you  think  my 
father  wanted  me  to  be?  A  minister!  Think  of  it!  Ha!  ha! 
ha!  Me  a  minister!  I  actually  did  go  for  a  couple  of  terms  to 
Jews'  College.  Oh,  yes,  you  remember!  Why,  I  was  there 
when  you  were  a  school-teacher  and  got  taken  up  by  the  swells. 
But  our  stroke  of  fortune  came  soon  after  yours.  Did  you  never 
hear  of  it?  My,  you  must  have  dropped  all  your  old  acquaint- 
ances if  no  one  ever  told  you  that!  Why,  father  came  in  for  a 
couple  of  thousand  pounds!  I  thought  Ld  make  you  stare. 
Guess  who  from?" 

"  I  give  it  up,"  said  Esther. 

"  Thank  you.  It  was  never  yours  to  give,"  said  Leonard, 
laughing  jovially  at  his  wit.  "Old  Steinwein  —  you  remember 
his  death.  It  was  in  all  the  papers;  the  eccentric  old  buffer, 
who  was  touched  in  the  upper  story,  and  used  to  give  so  much 
time  and  money  to  Jewish  affairs,  setting  up  lazy  old  rabbis  in 
Jerusalem  to  shake  themselves  over  their  Talmuds.  You  remem- 
ber his  gifts  to  the  poor  —  six  shillings  sevenpence  each  because 
he   was    seventy-nine  years    old    and   all    that.     Well,   he  used 


414  GRANDCHILDREN   OF   THE    GHETTO. 

to  send  the  pater  a  basket  of  fruit  every  Yointov.  But  he 
used  to  do  that  to  every  Rabbi,  all  around,  and  my  old  man  had 
not  the  least  idea  he  was  the  object  of  special  regard  till  the  old 
chap  pegged  out.     Ah,  there's  nothing  like  Torah,  after  all." 

"  You  don't  know  what  you  may  have  lost  through  not  becom- 
ing a  minister,"  suggested  Esther  slily. 

"Ah,  but  I  know  what  IVe  gained.  Do  you  think  I  could 
stand  having  my  hands  and  feet  tied  with  phylacteries?"  asked 
Leonard,  becoming  vividly  metaphoric  in  the  intensity  of  his 
repugnance  to  the  galling  bonds  of  orthodoxy.  "  Now,  I  do  as 
I  like,  go  where  I  please,  eat  what  I  please.  Just  fancy  not 
being  able  to  join  fellows  at  supper,  because  you  mustn't  eat 
oysters  or  steak?  Might  as  well  go  into  a  monastery  at  once. 
All  very  well  in  ancient  Jerusalem,  where  everybody  was  rowing 
in  the  same  boat.     Have  you  ever  tasted  pork,  Esther?" 

"  No,"  said  Esther,  with  a  faint  smile. 

"  I  have,"  said  Leonard.  "  I  don't  say  it  to  boast,  but  I  have 
had  it  times  without  number.  I  didn't  like  it  the  first  time  — 
thought  it  would  choke  me,  you  know,  but  that  soon  wears  off. 
Now  I  breakfast  off  ham  and  eggs  regularly.  I  go  the  whole 
hog,  you  see.     Ha!  ha!  ha!  " 

"  If  I  didn't  see  from  your  card  you're  not  living  at  home, 
that  would  have  apprised  me  of  it,"  said  Esther. 

"  Of  course,  I  couldn't  live  at  home.  Why  the  guvnor  couldn't 
bear  to  let  me  shave.  Ha!  ha!  ha!  Fancy  a  religion  that 
makes  you  keep  your  hair  on  unless  you  use  a  depilatory.  I 
v/as  articled  to  a  swell  solicitor.  The  old  man  resisted  a  long 
time,  but  he  gave  in  at  last,  and  let  me  live  near  the  office." 

"  Ah,  then  I  presume  you  came  in  for  some  of  the  two  thou- 
sand, despite  your  non-connection  with  Torah  ?  " 

"There  isn't  much  left  of  it  now,"  said  Leonard,  laughing. 
"  What's  two  thousand  in  seven  years  in  London  ?  There  were 
over  four  hundred  guineas  swallowed  up  by  the  premium,  and 
the  fees,  and  all  that." 

"Well,  let  us  hope  ifll  all  come  back  in  costs." 

"Well,  between  you  and  me,"  said  Leonard,  seriously,  "I 
should  be  surprised  if  it  does.     You  see,  I  haven't  yet  scraped 


COMEDY  OR    TRAGEDY?  415 

through  the  Final ;  they're  making  the  beastly  exam,  stiffer 
every  year.  No,  it  isn't  to  that  quarter  I  look  to  recoup  myself 
for  the  outlay  on  my  education." 

"No?"  said  Esther. 

"No.  Fact  is  —  between  you  and  me  —  I'm  going  to  be  an 
actor." 

"Oh!"  said  Esther. 

"  Yes.  I've  played  several  times  in  private  theatricals ;  you 
know  we  Jews  have  a  knack  for  the  stage ;  you'd  be  surprised 
to  know  how  many  pros  are  Jews.  There's  heaps  of  money  to 
be  made  now-a-days  on  the  boards.  Tm  in  with  lots  of  'em,  and 
ought  to  know.  It's  the  only  profession  where  you  don't  want 
any  training,  and  these  law  books  are  as  dry  as  the  Mishna  the 
old  man  used  to  make  me  study.  Why,  they  say  to-night's 
'Hamlet'  was  in  a  counting-house  four  years  ago." 

"  I  wish  you  success,"  said  Esther,  somewhat  dubiously. 
"And  how  is  your  sister  Hannah?     Is  she  married  yet?" 

"Married!  Not  she!  She's  got  no  money,  and  you  know 
what  our  Jewish  young  men  are.  Mother  wanted  her  to  have 
the  two  thousand  pounds  for  a  dowry,  but  fortunately  Hannah 
had  the  sense  to  see  that  it's  the  man  that's  got  to  make  his  way 
in  the  world.  Hannah  is  always  certain  of  her  bread  and 
butter,  which  is  a  good  deal  in  these  hard  times.  Besides,  she's 
naturally  grumpy,  and  she  doesn't  go  out  of  her  way  to  make 
herself  agreeable  to  young  men.  It's  my  belief  she'll  die  an  old 
maid.     Well,  there's  no  accounting  for  tastes." 

"  And  your  father  and  mother?  " 

"They're  all  right,  I  believe.  I  shall  see  them  to-morrow 
night  —  Passover,  you  know.  I  haven't  missed  a  single  Seder  at 
home,"  he  said,  with  conscious  virtue.  "It's  an  awful  bore,  you 
know.  I  often  laugh  to  think  of  the  chappies'  faces  if  they  could 
see  me  leaning  on  a  pillow  and  gravely  asking  the  old  man  why 
we  eat  Passover  cakes."  He  laughed  now  to  think  of  it.  "  But 
I  never  miss  ;  they'd  cut  up  rough,  I  expect,  if  I  did." 

"  Well,  that's  something  in  your  favor,"  murmured  Esther 
gravely. 

He  looked  at  her  sharply  ;  suddenly  suspecting  that  his  auditor 


416  GRANDCHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

was  not  perfectly  sympathetic.  She  smiled  a  little  at  the  images 
passing  through  her  mind,  and  Leonard,  taking  her  remark  for 
badinage,  allowed  his  own  features  to  relax  to  their  original 
amiability. 

"  YouVe  not  married,  either,  I  suplpose,""  he  remarked. 

"No,"''  said  Esther.     "  Fm  like  your  sister  Hannah." 

He  shook  his  head  sceptically. 

"  Ah,  I  expect  you'll  be  looking  very  high,"  he  said. 

"  Nonsense,"  murmured  Esther,  playing  with  her  bouquet. 

A  flash  passed  across  his  face,  but  he  went  on  in  the  same 
tone.  "Ah,  don't  tell  me.  Why  shouldn't  you?  Why,  you're 
looking  perfectly  charming  to-night." 

"  Please,  don't,"  said  Esther.  "  Every  girl  looks  perfectly 
charming  when  she's  nicely  dressed.  Who  and  what  am  I? 
Nothing.     Let  us  drop  the  subject." 

"  All  right ;  but  you  must  have  grand  ideas,  else  you'd  have 
sometimes  gone  to  see  my  people  as  in  the  old  days." 

"When  did  I  visit  your  people?  You  used  to  come  and  see 
me  sometimes."  A  shadow  of  a  smile  hovered  about  the  tremu- 
lous lips.  "  Believe  me,  I  didn't  consciously  drop  any  of  my  old 
acquaintances.  My  life  changed;  my  family  went  to  America; 
later  on  I  travelled.  It  is  the  currents  of  life,  not  their  wills,  that 
bear  old  acquaintances  asunder." 

He  seemed  pleased  with  her  sentiments  and  was  about  to  say 
something,  but  she  added :  "  The  curtain's  going  up.  Hadn't 
you  better  go  down  to  your  friend?  She's  been  looking  up  at  us 
impatiently." 

"  Oh,  no,  don't  bother  about  her."  said  Leonard,  reddening  a 
little.  "She  —  she  won't  mind.  She's  only  —  only  an  actress, 
you  know.  I  have  to  keep  in  with  the  profession  in  case  any 
opening  should  turn  up.  You  never  know.  An  actress  may 
become  a  lessee  at  any  moment.  Hark!  The  orchestra  is  strik- 
ing up  again ;  the  scene  isn't  set  yet.  Of  course  I'll  go  if  you 
want  me  to! " 

"  No,  stay  by  all  means  if  you  want  to,''  murmured  Esther. 
"We  have  a  chair  unoccupied." 

"Do  you  expect  that  fellow  Sidney  Graham  back?" 


COMEDY  OR    TRAGEDY?  417 

"Yes,  sooner  or  later.  But  how  do  you  know  his  name?'' 
queried  Esther  in  surprise. 

"  Everybody  about  \o\\\\  knows  Sidney  Graham,  the  artist. 
Why,  we  belong  to  the  same  dub  —  the  Flamingo  —  though  he 
only  turns  up  for  the  great  glove-fights.  Beastly  cad,  with  all 
due  respect  to  your  friends,  Esther.  I  was  introduced  to  him 
once,  but  he  stared  at  me  next  time  so  haughtily  that  I  cut  him 
dead.  Do  you  know,  ever  since  then  Fve  suspected  he's  one  of 
us;  perhaps  you  can  tell  me,  Esther?  I  dare  say  he's  no  more 
Sidney  Graham  than  I  am." 

"Hush!  "  said  Esther,  glancing  warningly  towards  Addie,  who, 
however,  betrayed  no  sign  of  attention. 

"Sister?"  asked  Leonard,  lowering  his  voice  to  a  whisper. 

Esther  shook  her  head.  "Cousin;  but  Mr.  Graham  is  a 
friend  of  mine  as  well  and  you  mustn't  talk  of  him  like  that." 

"Ripping  fine  girl!  "  murmured  Leonard  irrelevantly.  "Won- 
der at  his  taste."     He  took  a  long  stare  at  the  abstracted  Addie. 

"What  do  you  mean?  "  said  Esther,  her  annoyance  increasing. 
Her  old  friend's  tone  jarred  upon  her. 

"Well,  I  don't  know  what  he  could  see  in  the  girl  he's  en- 
gaged to." 

Esther's  face  became  white.  She  looked  anxiously  towards 
the  unconscious  Addie. 

"  You  are  talking  nonsense,"  she  said,  in  a  low^  cautious  tone. 
"  Mr.  Graham  is  too  fond  of  his  liberty  to  engage  himself  to  any 
girl." 

"Oho!"  said  Leonard,  with  a  subdued  whistle.  "I  hope 
you're  not  sweet  on  him  yourself." 

Esther  gave  an  impatient  gesture  of  denial.  She  resented 
Leonard's  rapid  resumption  of  his  olden  familiarity. 

"  Then  take  care  not  to  be,"  he  said.  "  He's  engaged  privately  to 
Miss  Hannibal,  a  daughter  of  the  M.  P.  Tom  Sledge,  the  sub-edi- 
tor of  the  Cor}iwrant,  told  me.  You  know  they  collect  items  about 
everybody  and  publish  them  at  what  they  call  the  psychological 
moment.  Graham  goes  to  the  Hannibals'  every  Saturday  after- 
noon. They're  very  strict  people  ;  the  father,  you  know,  is  a  prom- 
inent Wesleyan  and  she's  not  the  sort  of  girl  to  be  played  with." 

2  E 


418  GRANDCHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

"  For  Heaven's  sake  speak  more  softly,"  said  Esther,  though 
the  orchestra  was  playing  fortissimo  now  and  they  had  spoken 
so  quietly  all  along  that  Addie  could  scarcely  have  heard  without 
a  special  effort.  "  It  can't  be  true  ;  you  are  repeating  mere  idle 
gossip." 

"  Why,  they  know  everything  at  the  Cormorant^'  said  Leonard, 
indignantly.  "  Do  you  suppose  a  man  can  take  such  a  step  as 
that  without  its  getting  known?  Why,  I  shall  be  chaffed  —  envi- 
ously—  about  you  two  to-morrow!  Many  a  thing  the  world 
little  dreams  of  is  an  open  secret  in  Club  smoking-rooms.  Gen- 
erally more  discreditable  than  Graham's,  which  must  be  made 
public  of  itself  sooner  or  later." 

To  Esther's  relief,  the  curtain  rose.  Addie  woke  up  and 
looked  round,  but  seeing  that  Sidney  had  not  returned,  and  that 
Esther  was  still  in  colloquy  with  the  invader,  she  gave  her  atten- 
tion to  the  stage.  Esther  could  no  longer  bend  her  eye  on  the 
mimic  tragedy  ;  her  eyes  rested  pityingly  upon  Addie's  face,  and 
Leonard's  eyes  rested  admiringly  upon  Esther's.  Thus  Sidney 
found  the  group,  when  he  returned  in  the  middle  of  the  act,  to 
his  surprise  and  displeasure.  He  stood  silently  at  the  back  of 
the  box  till  the  act  was  over.  Leonard  James  was  the  first  to 
perceive  him  ;  knowing  he  had  been  telling  tales  about  him,  he 
felt  uneasy  under  his  supercilious  gaze.  He  bade  Esther  good- 
bye, asking  and  receiving  permission  to  call  upon  her.  When 
he  was  gone,  constraint  fell  upon  the  party.  Sidney  was  moody  ; 
Addie  pensive,  Esther  full  of  stifled  wrath  and  anxiety.  At  the 
close  of  the  performance  Sidney  took  down  the  girls'  wrappings 
from  the  pegs.  He  helped  Esther  courteously,  then  hovered 
over  his  cousin  with  a  solicitude  that  brought  a  look  of  calm  hap- 
piness into  Addie's  face,  and  an  expression  of  pain  into  Esther's. 
As  they  moved  slowly  along  the  crowded  corridors,  he  allowed 
Addie  to  get  a  few  paces  in  advance.  It  was  his  last  opportunity 
of  saying  a  word  to  Esther  alone. 

"  If  I  were  you.  Miss  Ansell,  I  would  not  allow  that  cad  to 
presume  on  any  acquaintance  he  may  have." 

All  the  latent  irritation  in  Esther's  breast  burst  into  flame  at 
the  idea  of  Sidney's  constituting  himself  a  judge. 


COMEDY  OR    TRAGEL'Y?  419 

"  If  I  had  not  cultivated  his  acquaintance  I  should  not  have 
had  the  pleasure  of  congratulating  you  on  your  engagement," 
she  replied,  almost  in  a  whisper.  To  Sidney  it  sounded  like  a 
shout.     His  color  heightened  ;  he  was  visibly  taken  aback. 

'"What  are  you  talking  about?"  he  murmured  automatically. 

"About  your  engagement  to  Miss  Hannibal." 

"That  blackguard  told  you!"  he  whispered  angrily,  half  to 
himself.  "  Well,  what  of  it  ?  I  am  not  bound  to  advertise  it, 
am  I?  It's  my  private  business,  isn't  it?  You  don't  expect  me 
to  hang  a  placard  round  my  breast  like  those  on  concert-room 
chairs  —  '  Engaged ' !  " 

"  Certainly  not,"  said  Esther.  "  But  you  might  have  told  your 
friends,  so  as  to  enable  them  to  rejoice  sympathetically." 

"  You  turn  your  sarcasm  prettily,"  he  said  mildly,  "  but  the 
sympathetic  rejoicing  was  just  what  I  wanted  to  avoid.  You 
know  what  a  Jewish  engagement  is,  how  the  news  spreads  like 
wildfire  from  Piccadilly  to  Petticoat  Lane,  and  the  whole  house 
of  Israel  gathers  together  to  discuss  the  income  and  the  pros- 
pects of  the  happy  pair.  I  object  to  sympathetic  rejoicing  from 
the  slums,  especially  as  in  this  case  it  would  probably  be  ex- 
changed for  curses.  Miss  Hannibal  is  a  Christian,  and  for  a  Jew 
to  embrace  a  Christian  is,  I  believe,  the  next  worse  thing  to  his 
embracing  Christianity,  even  when  the  Jew  is  a  pagan."  His 
wonted  flippancy  rang  hollow.  He  paused  suddenly  and  stole  a 
look  at  his  companion's  face,  in  search  of  a  smile,  but  it  was  pale 
and  sorrowful.  The  flush  on  his  own  face  deepened ;  his  feat- 
ures expressed  internal  conflict.  He  addressed  a  light  word  to 
Addie  in  front.  They  were  nearing  the  portico ;  it  was  raining 
outside  and  a  cold  wind  blew  in  to  meet  them ;  he  bent  his  head 
down  to  the  delicate  little  face  at  his  side,  and  his  tones  were 
changed. 

"  Miss  Ansell,"  he  said  tremulously,  "  if  I  have  in  any  way 
misled  you  by  my  reticence,  I  beg  you  to  believe  it  was  uninten- 
tionally. The  memory  of  the  pleasant  quarters  of  an  hour  we 
have  spent  together  will  always  —  " 

"Good  God!"  said  Esther  hoarsely,  her  cheeks  flaming,  her 
ears  tingling.     "  To  whom  are  you  apologizing?  "     He  looked  at 


420  GRANDCHILDREN  OF  THE    GHETTO. 

her  perplexed.  "Why  have  you  not  told  Addie?''  she  forced 
herself  to  say. 

In  the  press  of  the  crowd,  on  the  edge  of  the  threshold,  he 
stood  still.  Dazzled  as  by  a  flash  of  lightning,  he  gazed  at  his 
cousin,  her  beautifully  poised  head,  covered  with  its  fleecy  white 
shawl,  dominating  the  throng.  The  shawl  became  an  aureole 
to  his  misty  vision. 

"  Have  you  told  her? "  he  whispered  with  answering  hoarseness. 

"No,"  said  Esther. 

"  Then  don't  tell  her,"  he  w^hispered  eagerly. 

"I  must.  She  must  hear  it  soon.  Such  things  must  ooze 
out  sooner  or  later." 

"Then  let  it  be  later.     Promise  me  this." 

"  No  good  can  come  of  concealment." 

"  Promise  me,  for  a  little  while,  till  I  give  you  leave." 

His  pleading,  handsome  face  was  close  to  hers.  She  won- 
dered how  she  could  ever  have  cared  for  a  creature  so  weak  and 
pitiful. 

"  So  be  it,"  .she  breathed. 

"  Miss  Leon's  carriage,"  bawled  the  commissionaire.  There 
was  a  confusion  of  rain-beaten  umbrellas,  gleaming  carriage- 
lamps,  zigzag  reflections  on  the  black  pavements,  and  clattering 
omnibuses  full  inside.     But  the  air  was  fresh. 

"  Don't  go  into  the  rain,  Addie,"  said  Sidney,  pressing  for- 
wards anxiously.  "  You're  doing  all  my  work  to-night.  Hallo! 
where  ^xdiyou  spring  from?  " 

It  was  Raphael  who  had  elicited  the  exclamation.  He  sud- 
denly loomed  upon  the  party,  bearing  a  decrepit  dripping 
umbrelhi.  "1  thought  I  should  be  in  time  to  catch  you  —  and 
to  apologize,''  he  said,  turning  to  Esther. 

"  Don't  mention  it,"  murmured  Esther,  his  unexpected  appear- 
ance completing  her  mental  agitation. 

"  Hold  the  umbrella  over  the  girls,  you  beggar,"  said  Sidney. 

"  Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Rapliael,  poking  the  rim 
against  a  policeman's  helmet  in  his  anxiety  to  obey. 

"  Don't  mention  it."  said  Addie  smiling. 

"  All  right,  sir,"  growled  the  policeman  good-humoredly. 


COMEDY   OR    TRAGEDY?  421 

Sidney  laughed  heartily. 

"Quite  a  general  amnesty/'  he  said.  ^*Ah!  here's  the  car- 
riage. Why  didn't  you  get  inside  it  out  of  the  rain  or  stand 
in  the  entrance  —  youVe  wringing  wet.'' 

"I  didn't  think  of  it,"  said  Raphael.  "Besides,  I've  only 
been  here  a  few  minutes.  The  'busses  are  so  full  when  it  rains 
I  had  to  walk  all  the  way  from  Whitechapel." 

"  You're  incorrigible,"  gmmbled  Sidney.  "  As  if  you  couldn't 
have  taken  a  hansom." 

"Why  waste  money?"  said  Raphael.  They  got  into  the 
carriage. 

"Well,  did  you  enjoy  yourselves?"  he  asked  cheerfully. 

"Oh  yes,  thoroughly,"  said  Sidney.  "  Addie  wasted  two 
pocket-handkerchiefs  over  Ophelia ;  almost  enough  to  pay  for 
that  hansom.  Miss  Ansell  doated  on  the  finger  of  destiny  and 
I  chopped  logic  and  swopped  cigarettes  with  O'Donovan.  I 
hope  you  enjoyed  yourself  equally." 

Raphael  responded  with  a  melancholy  smile.  He  was  seated 
opposite  Esther,  and  ever  and  anon  some  flash  of  light  from  the 
street  revealed  clearly  his  sodden,  almost  shabby,  garments  and 
the  weariness  of  his  expression.  Ke  seemed  quite  out  of  har- 
mony with  the  dainty  pleasure-party,  but  just  on  that  account 
the  more  in  harmony  with  Esther's  old  image,  the  heroic  side  of 
him  growing  only  more  lovable  for  the  human  alloy.  She  bent 
towards  him  at  last  and  said :  "  I  am  sorry  you  were  deprived  of 
your  evening's  amusement.  I  hope  the  reason  didn't  add  to  the 
unpleasantness." 

"  It  was  nothing,"  he  murmured  awkwardly.  "A  little  unex- 
pected work.     One  can  always  go  to  the  theatre." 

"  Ah,  I  am  afraid  you  overwork  yourself  too  much.  You 
mustn't.     Think  of  your  own  health." 

His  look  softened.  He  was  in  a  harassed,  sensitive  state. 
The  sympathy  of  her  gentle  accents,  the  concern  upon  the  eager 
little  face,  seemed  to  flood  his  own  soul  with  a  self-compassion 
new  to  him. 

"  My  health  doesn't  matter,"  he  faltered.  There  were  sweet 
tears  in  his  eyes,  a  colossal  sense  of  gratitude  at  his  heart.     He 


422  GRANDCHILDREN   OF  THE    GHETTO. 

had  always  meant  to  pity  her  and  help  her ;  it  was  sweeter  to  be 
pitied,  though  of  course  she  could  not  help  him.  He  had  no 
need  of  help,  and  on  second  thoughts  he  wondered  what  room 
there  was  for  pity, 

'■'  No,  no,  don't  talk  like  that/'  said  Esther.  "  Think  of  your 
parents  —  and  Addie." 

CHAPTER   Vn. 

WHAT   THE   YEARS   BROUGHT. 

The  next  morning  Esther  sat  in  Mrs.  Henry  Goldsmith's  bou- 
doir, filling  up  some  invitation  forms  for  her  patroness,  who  often 
took  advantage  of  her  literary  talent  in  this  fashion.  Mrs.  Gold- 
smith herself  lay  back  languidly  upon  a  great  easy-chair  before 
an  asbestos  fire  and  turned  over  the  leaves  of  the  new  number  of 
the  AcadcBum.     Suddenly  she  uttered  a  little  exclamation. 

"What  is  it?"  said  Esther. 

"  They've  got  a  review  here  of  that  Jewish  novel.'" 

"Have  they?"  said  Esther,  glancing  up  eagerly.  "I'd  given 
up  looking  for  it." 

"You  seem  very  interested  in  it,"  said  Mrs.  Goldsmith,  with  a 
little  surprise. 

"Yes,  I  —  I  wanted  to  know  what  they  said  about  it,"  explained 
Esther  quickly;  "one  hears  so  many  worthless  opinions." 

"  Well,  I'm  glad  to  see  we  were  all  right  about  it,"  said  Mrs. 
Goldsmith,  whose  eye  had  been  running  down  the  column.  "  Lis- 
ten here.  'It  is  a  disagreeable  book  at  best;  what  might  have 
been  a  powerful  tragedy  being  disfigured  by  clumsy  workman- 
ship and  sordid  superfluous  detail.  The  exaggerated  unhealthy 
pessimism,  which  the  very  young  mistake  for  insight,  pervades 
the  work  and  there  are  some  .spiteful  touches  of  observation 
which  seem  to  point  to  a  woman's  hand.  Some  of  the  minor 
personages  have  the  air  of  being  sketched  from  life.  The  novel 
can  scarcely  be  acceptable  to  the  writer's  circle.  Readers,  how- 
ever, in  search  of  the  unusual  will  find  new  ground  broken  in 
this  immature  study  of  Jewish  life.'" 


WHAT   THE    YEARS  BROUGHT.  423 

"  There,  Esther,  isn't  that  just  what  Fve  been  saying  in 
other  words  ? '' 

"  It's  hardly  worth  bothering  about  the  book  now,"  said 
Esther  in  low  tones,  "  it's  such  a  long  time  ago  now  since  it 
came  out.  I  don't  know  what's  the  good  of  reviewing  it  now. 
These  literary  papers  always  seem  so  cold  and  cruel  to  unknown 
writers." 

''Cruel,  it  isn't  half  what  he  deserves,"  said  Mrs.  Goldsmith, 
"or  ought  I  to  say  she?  Do  you  think  there's  anything,  Esther, 
in  that  idea  of  its  being  a  woman? " 

"  Really,  dear,  I'm  sick  to  death  of  that  book,"  said  Esther. 
"  These  reviewers  always  try  to  be  very  clever  and  to  see 
through  brick  walls.  What  does  it  matter  if  it's  a  he,  or  a 
she?" 

"  It  doesn't  matter,  but  it  makes  it  more  disgraceful,  if  it's 
a  woman.  A  woman  has  no  business  to  know  the  seamy  side 
of  human  nature." 

At  this  instant,  a  domestic  knocked  and  announced  that  Mr. 
Leonard  James  had  called  to  see  Miss  Ansell.  Annoyance, 
surprise  'and  relief  struggled  to  express  themselves  on  Esther's 
face. 

"  Is  the  gentleman  waiting  to  see  me?"  she  said. 

"  Yes,  miss,  he's  in  the  hall." 

Esther  turned  to  Mrs.  Goldsmith.  "It's  a  young -man  I 
came  across  unexpectedly  last  night  at  the  theatre.  He's  the 
son  of  Reb  Shemuel,  of  whom  you  may  have  heard.  I  haven't 
met  him  since  we  w^re  boy  and  girl  together.  He  asked  per- 
mission to  call,  but  I  didn't  expect  him  so  soon." 

"  Oh,  see  him  by  all  means,  dear.  He  is  probably  anxious 
to  talk  over  old  times." 

"  May  I  ask  him  up  here  ?  " 

"No  —  unless  you  particularly  want  to  introduce  him  to  me. 
I  dare  say  he  would  rather  have  you  to  himself."  There  was 
a  touch  of  superciliousness  about  her  tone,  which  Esther  rather 
resented,  although  not  particularly  anxious  for  Levi's  social  rec- 
ognition. 

"  Show  him  into  the  library,"  she  said  to  the  servant.     "  I  will 


424  GRANDCHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

be  down  in  a  minute."  She  lingered  a  few  minutes  to  finish 
up  the  invitations  and  exchange  a  few  indifferent  remarks  with 
her  companion  and  then  went  down,  wondering  at  Levi's  pre- 
cipitancy in  renewing  the  acquaintance.  She  could  not  help 
thinking  of  the  strangeness  of  life.  That  time  yesterda}'  she 
had  not  dreamed  of  Levi,  and  now  she  was  about  to  see  him  for 
the  second  time  and  seemed  to  know  him  as  intimately  as  if  they 
had  never  been  parted. 

Leonard  James  was  pacing  the  carpet.  His  face  was  per- 
turbed, though  his  stylishly  cut  clothes  were  composed  and 
immaculate.  A  cloak  was  thrown  loosely  across  his  shoulders. 
In  his  right  hand  he  held  a  bouquet  of  Spring  flowers,  which  he 
transferred  to  his  left  in  order  to  shake  hands  with  her. 

'•  Good  afternoon,  Esther,"'  he  said  heartily.  "  By  Jove,  you 
have  got  among  tip-top  people.  I  had  no  idea.  Fancy  you 
ordering  Jeames  de  la  Pluche  about.  And  how  happy  vou 
must  be  among  all  these  books!  Tve  brought  you  a  bouquet. 
There!  Isn't  it  a  beauty?  I  got  it  at  Covent  Garden  this 
morning.'" 

''It's  very  kind  of  you,"  murmured  Esther,  not  so  pleased  as 
she  might  have  been,  considering  her  love  of  beautiful  things. 
"  But  you  really  ought  not  to  waste  your  money  like  that." 

"  What  nonsense,  Esther!  Don't  forget  I'm  not  in  the  posi- 
tion my  father  was.  I'm  going  to  be  a  rich  man.  No,  don't 
put  it  into  a  vase  ;  put  it  in  your  own  room  where  it  will  remind 
you  of  me.  Just  smell  those  violets,  they  are  awfully  sweet  and 
fresh.  I  flatter  myself,  it's  quite  as  swell  and  tasteful  as  the 
bouquet  you  had  last  night.  Who  gave  you  that,  Esther?" 
The  "Esther"  mitigated  the  off-handedness  of  the  question, 
but  made  the  sentence  jar  doubly  upon  her  ear.  She  might 
have  brought  herself  to  call  him  "  Levi  "  in  exchange,  but  then 
she  was  not  certain  he  would  like  it.  "-Leonard"  was  impos- 
sible.    So  she  forbore  to  call  him  by  any  name. 

''I  think  Mr.  Graham  brought  it.  Won't  you  sit  down?" 
she  said  indifferently. 

"Thank  you.  I  thought  so.  Luck  that  fellow's  engaged. 
Do  you  know,  Esther.  I  didn't  sleep  all  night." 


WHAT   THE    YEARS  BROUGHT.  425 

"No?"  said  Esther.  "You  seemed  quite  well  when  I  saw 
you." 

"  So  I  was,  but  seeing  you  again,  so  unexpectedly,  excited 
me.  You  have  been  whirling  in  my  brain  ever  since.  I  hadn't 
thought  of  you  for  years  —  " 

"  I  hadn't  thought  of  you,"  Esther  echoed  frankly. 

"No,  I  suppose  not,"  he  said,  a  little  ruefully.  "But,  any- 
how, fate  has  brought  us  together  again.  I  recognized  you  the 
moment  I  set  eyes  on  you,  for  all  your  grand  clothes  and  your 
swell  bouquets.  I  tell  you  I  was  just  struck  all  of  a  heap ;  of 
course,  I  knew  about  your  luck,  but  I  hadn't  realized  it.  There 
wasnH  any  one  in  the  whole  theatre  who  looked  the  lady  more  — 
'pon  honor;  you'd  have  no  cause  to  blush  in  the  company  of 
duchesses.  In  fact  I  know  a  duchess  or  two  who  don't  look 
near  so  refined.  I  was  quite  surprised.  Do  you  know,  if  any 
one  had  told  me  you  used  to  live  up  in  a  garret  — " 

"Oh,  please  donH  recall  unpleasant  things,"  interrupted 
Esther,  petulantly,  a  little  shudder  going  through  her,  partly  at 
the  picture  he  called  up,  partly  at  his  grating  vulgarity.  Her 
repulsion  to  him  was  growing.  Why  had  he  developed  so 
disagreeably?  She  had  not  disliked  him  as  a  boy,  and  he  cer- 
tainly had  not  inherited  his  traits  of  coarseness  from  his  father, 
whom  she  still  conceived  as  a  courtly  old  gentleman. 

"Oh  well,  if  you  don't  like  it,  I  won't.  I  see  you're  like  me; 
I  never  think  of  the  Ghetto  if  I  can  help  it.  Well,  as  I  was  say- 
ing, I  haven't  had  a  wink  of  sleep  since  I  saw  you.  I  lay  tossing 
about,  thinking  all  sorts  of  things,  till  I  could  stand  it  no  longer, 
and  I  got  up  and  dressed  and  walked  about  the  streets  and 
strayed  into  Covent  Garden  Market,  where  the  inspiration  came 
upon  me  to  get  you  this  bouquet.  For,  of  course,  it  was  about 
you  that  I  had  been  thinking." 

"  About  me  ?  "'  said  Esther,  turning  pale. 

"Yes,  of  course.  Don't  make  Schnecks — you  know  what  I 
mean.  I  can't  help  using  the  old  expression  when  I  look  at 
you ;  the  past  seems  all  come  back  again.  They  were  happy 
days,  weren't  they,  Esther,  when  I  used  to  come  up  to  see 
you  in  Royal  Street ;    I  think  you  were  a  little  sweet  on  me  in 


426  GRANDCHILDREN   OF   THE    GHETTO. 

those  days,  Esther,  and  I  know  I  was  regular  mashed  on 
you." 

He  looked  at  her  with  a  fond  smile. 

"  I  dare  say  you  were  a  silly  boy,"  said  Esther,  coloring  un- 
easily under  his  gaze.  ''However,  you  needn't  reproach  yourself 
now." 

'•Reproach  myself,  indeed!  Never  fear  that.  What  I  have 
been  reproaching  myself  with  all  night  is  never  having  looked 
you  up.  Somehow,  do  you  know,  I  kept  asking  myself  whether 
I  hadn't  made  a  fool  of  myself  lately,  and  I  kept  thinking  things 
might  have  been  different  if — "" 

"  Nonsense,  nonsense,"  interrupted  Esther  with  an  embar- 
rassed laugh.  "You've  been  doing  vei-y  well,  learning  to  know 
the  world  and  studying  law  and  mixing  with  pleasant  people." 

"  Ah,  Esther,"  he  said,  shaking  his  head,  "  it's  very  good  of 
you  to  say  that.  I  don't  say  Fve  done  anything  particularly 
foolish  or  out  of  the  way.  But  when  a  man  is  alone,  he  some- 
times gets  a  little  reckless  and  wastes  his  time,  and  you  know 
what  it  is.  I've  been  thinking  if  I  had  some  one  to  keep  me 
steady,  some  one  I  could  respect,  it  would  be  the  best  thing  that 
could  happen  to  me." 

"Oh,  but  surely  you  ought  to  have  sense  enough  to  take  care 
of  yourself.  And  there  is  always  your  father.  Why  don't  you 
see  more  of  him  ?  " 

"  Don't  chaff  a  man  when  you  see  he's  in  earnest.  You  know 
what  I  mean.     It's  you  I  am  thinking  of." 

"Me?  Oh  well,  if  you  think  my  friendship  can  be  of  any  use 
to  you  I  shall  be  delighted.  Come  and  see  me  sometimes  and 
tell  me  of  your  struggles." 

"  You  know  I  don't  mean  that,"  he  said  desperately.  "  Couldn't 
we  be  more  than  friends?  Couldn't  we  commence  again  —  where 
we  left  off? " 

"  How  do  you  mean?  "  she  murmured. 

"Why  are  you  so  cold  to  me?"  he  burst  out.  "Why  do  you 
make  it  so  hard  for  me  to  speak?  You  know  I  love  you,  that  I 
fell  in  love  with  you  all  over  again  last  night.  I  never  really 
forgot  you;  you  were  always  deep  down  in  my  breast.     All  that 


WHAT   THE    YEARS  BROUGHT.  427 

I  said  about  steadying  me  wasn't  a  lie.  I  felt  that,  too.  But 
the  real  thing  I  feel  is  the  need  of  you.  I  want  you  to  care  for 
me  as  I  care  for  you.     You  used  to,  Esther;  you  know  you  did." 

"I  know  nothing  of  the  kind/'  said  Esther,  "and  I  can't 
understand  why  a  young  fellow  like  you  wants  to  bother  his 
head  with  such  ideas.  You've  got  to  make  your  way  in  the 
world  —  " 

"  I  know,  I  know ;  that's  why  I  want  you.  I  didn't  tell  you 
the  exact  truth  last  night,  Esther,  but  I  must  really  earn  some 
money  soon.  All  that  two  thousand  is  used  up,  and  I  only  get 
along  by  squeezing  some  money  out  of  the  old  man  every  now 
and  again.  Don't  frown  ;  he  got  a  rise  of  screw  three  years  ago 
and  can  well  afford  it.  Now  that's  what  I  said  to  myself  last 
night ;  if  I  were  engaged,  it  would  be  an  incentive  to  earning 
something." 

"  For  a  Jewish  young  man,  you  are  fearfully  unpractical,"  said 
Esther,  with  a  forced  smile.  "Fancy  proposing  to  a  girl  without 
even  prospects  of  prospects." 

"Oh,  but  I  have  got  prospects.  I  tell  you  I  shall  make  no  end 
of  money  on  the  stage." 

"  Or  no  beginning,"  she  said,  finding  the  facetious  vein  easiest. 

"  No  fear.  I  know  Eve  got  as  much  talent  as  Bob  Andrews 
(he  admits  it  himself),  and  he  draws  his  thirty  quid  a  week." 

"  Wasn't  that  the  man  who  appeared  at  the  police-court  the 
other  day  for  being  drunk  and  disorderly?  " 

"  Y-e-es,"  admitted  Leonard,  a  little  disconcerted.  "  He  is  a 
very  good  fellow,  but  he  loses  his  head  when  he's  in  liquor." 

"  I  wonder  you  can  care  for  society  of  that  sort,"  said  Esther. 

"  Perhaps  you're  right.  They're  not  a  very  refined  lot.  I  tell 
you  what  —  Ed  like  to  go  on  the  stage,  but  Em  not  mad  on  it, 
and  if  you  only  say  the  word  Ell  give  it  up.  There!  And  Ell 
go  on  with  my  law  studies  ;  honor  bright,  I  will." 

"  I  should,  if  I  were  you,"  she  said. 

"Yes,  but  I  can't  do  it  without  encouragement.  Won't  you 
say  'yes'?  Let's  strike  the  bargain.  I'll  stick  to  law  and  you'll 
stick  to  me." 

She  shook  her  head.     "  I  am  afraid  I  could  not  promise  any- 


428  GRANDCHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

thing  you  mean.  As  I  said  before,  I  shall  be  always  glad  to  see 
you.     If  you  do  well,  no  one  will  rejoice  more  than  I." 

"Rejoice!  What's  the  good  of  that  to  me?  I  want  you  to 
care  for  me  ;  I  want  to  look  forward  to  your  being  my  wife.''' 

"  Really,  I  cannot  take  advantage  of  a  moment  of  folly  like 
this.  You  don't  know  what  youVe  saying.  You  saw  me  last 
night,  after  many  years,  and  in  your  gladness  at  seeing  an  old 
friend  you  flare  up  and  fancy  youVe  in  love  with  me.  Why,  who 
ever  heard  of  such  foolish  haste?  Go  back  to  your  studies,  and 
in  a  day  or  two  you  will  find  the  flame  sinking  as  rapidly  as  it 
leaped  up." 

"  No,  no!  Nothing  of  the  kind!  "  His  voice  was  thicker  and 
there  was  real  passion  in  it.  She  grew  dearer  to  him  as  the  hope 
of  her  love  receded.  "  I  couldn't  forget  you.  I  care  for  you 
awfully.  I  realized  last  night  that  my  feeling  for  you  is  quite 
unlike  what  I  have  ever  felt  towards  any  other  girl.  Don't  say 
no!  Don't  send  me  away  despairing.  I  can  hardly  realize  that 
you  have  grown  so  strange  and  altered.  Surely  you  oughtn't 
to  put  on  any  side  with  me.  Remember  the  times  we  have  had 
together." 

"  I  remember,"  she  said  gently.  "  But  I  do  not  want  to  marry 
any  one;  indeed,  I  don't." 

"■  Then  if  there  is  no  one  else  in  your  thoughts,  why  shouldn't 
it  be  me?  There!  I  won't  press  you  for  an  answer  now.  Only 
don't  say  it's  out  of  the  question." 

"I'm  afraid  I  must." 

"  No,  you  mustn't,  Esther,  you  mustn't,"  he  exclaimed 
excitedly.  "Think  of  what  it  means  for  me.  You  are  the 
only  Jewish  girl  I  shall  ever  care  for ;  and  father  would  be 
pleased  if  I  were  to  marry  you.  You  know  if  I  wanted  to 
marry  a  Shiksah  there'd  be  awful  rows.  Don't  treat  me  as  if 
I  were  some  outsider  with  no  claim  upon  you.  I  believe  we 
should  get  on  splendidly  together,  you  and  me.  We've  been 
through  the  same  sort  of  thing  in  childhood,  we  should 
understand  each  other,  and  be  in  sympathy  with  each  other 
in  a  way  I  could  never  be  with  another  girl  and  I  doubt  if 
you  could  with  another  fellow." 


WHAT   THE    YEARS  BROUGHT.  429 

The  words  burst  from  him  like  a  torrent,  with  excited 
foreign-looking  gestures.  Esther^s  lieadache  was  coming  on 
badly. 

"What  would  be  the  use  of  my  deceiving  you?''  she  said 
gently.  "  I  don't  think  I  shall  ever  marry.  Tm  sure  I  could 
never  make  you  —  or  any  one  else  —  happy.  Won't  you  let  me 
be  your  friend  ?  " 

"Friend!"  he  echoed  bitterly.  "I  know  what  it  is;  I'm 
poor.  I've  got  no  money  bags  to  lay  at  your  feet.  You're 
like  all  the  Jewish  girls  after  all.  But  I  only  ask  you  to 
wait ;  I  shall  have  plenty  of  money  by  and  by.  Who  knows 
what  more  luck  my  father  might  drop  in  for?  There  are  lots 
of  rich  religious  cranks.  And  then  I'll  work  hard,  honor 
bright  I  will." 

"  Pray  be  reasonable,"  said  Esther  quietly.  "  You  know  you 
are  talking  at  random.  Yesterday  this  time  you  had  no  idea 
of  such  a  thing.  To-day  you  are  all  on  fire.  To-morrow  you 
will  forget  all  about  it." 

"Never!  Never!"  he  cried.  "Haven't  I  remembered  you 
all  these  years?  They  talk  of  man's  faithlessness  and  woman's 
faithfulness.  It  seems  to  me,  it's  all  the  other  way.  Women 
are  a  deceptive  lot." 

"  You  know  you  have  no  right  whatever  to  talk  like  that  to 
me,"  said  Esther,  her  sympathy  beginning  to  pass  over  into 
annoyance.  "  To-morrow  you  will  be  sorry.  Hadn't  you 
better  go  before  you  give  yourself — and  me  —  more  cause 
for  regret  ? " 

"Ho,  you're  sending  me  away,  are  you?"  he  said  in  angry 
surprise. 

"  I  am  certainly  suggesting  it  as  the  wisest  course." 

"Oh,  don't  give  me  any  of  your  fine  phrases!"  he  said 
brutally.  "I  see  what  it  is  —  I've  made  a  mistake.  You're 
a  stuck-up,  conceited  little  thing.  You  think  because  you 
live  in  a  grand  house  nobody  is  good  enough  for  you.  But 
what  are  you  after  all?  2i  Schnorrer  —  that's  all.  A  ScJinorrer 
living  on  the  charity  of  strangers.  If  I  mix  with  grand  folks, 
it  is  as  an  independent  man  and  an  equal.     But    you,    rather 


430  GRANDCHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

than  marry  any  one  who  mightn't  be  able  to  give  you  carriages 
and  footmen,  you  prefer  to  remain  a  ScJinorrery 

Esther  was  white  and  her  hps  trembled.  "Now  I  must  ask 
you  to  go,"  she  said. 

"All  right,  don't  flurry  yourself!"  he  said  savagely.  "You 
don't  impress  me  with  your  airs.  Try  them  on  people  who 
don't  know  what  you  were  —  a  Schnorrer's  daughter.  Yes, 
your  father  was  always  a  ScJmorrer  and  you  are  his  child. 
It's  in  the  blood.  Ha!  Ha!  Ha!  Moses  Ansell's  daughter! 
Moses  Ansell's  daughter  —  a  peddler,  who  went  about  the 
country  with  brass  jewelry  and  stood  in  the  Lane  with 
lemons  and  schnorred  half-crowns  of  my  father.  You  took 
jolly  good  care  to  ship  him  off  to  America,  but  'pon  my  honor, 
you  can't  expect  others  to  forget  him  as  quickly  as  you. 
It's  a  rich  joke,  you  refusing  me.  You're  not  fit  for  me 
to  wipe  my  shoes  on.  My  mother  never  cared  for  me  to 
go  to  your  garret ;  she  said  I  must  mix  with  my  equals  and 
goodness  knew  what  disease  I  might  pick  up  in  the  dirt ; 
'pon  my  honor  the  old  girl  was  right." 

"  She  was  right,"  Esther  was  stung  into  retorting.  "  You 
must  mix  only  with  your  equals.  Please  leave  the  room  now  or 
else  I  shall." 

His  face  changed.  His  frenzy  gave  way  to  a  momentary 
shock  of  consternation  as  he  realized  what  he  had  done. 

"  No,  no,  Esther.  I  was  mad,  I  didn't  know  what  I  was  say- 
ing.    I  didn't  mean  it.     Forget  it." 

"I  cannot.  It  was  quite  true,"  she  said  bitterly.  "  I  am  only 
a  Sc/uiorrer^s  daughter.     Well,  are  you  going  or  must  I  ?  " 

He  muttered  something  inarticulate,  then  seized  his  hat  sulkily 
and  went  to  the  door  without  looking  at  her. 

"  You  have  forgotten  something,"  she  said. 

He  turned  ;  her  forefinger  pointed  to  the  bouquet  on  the  table. 
He  had  a  fresh  access  of  rage  at  the  sight  of  it,  jerked  it  con- 
temptuously to  the  floor  with  a  sweep  of  his  hat  and  stamped 
upon  it.  Then  he  rushed  from  the  room  and  an  instant  after 
she  heard  the  hall  door  slam. 

She  sank  against  the  table  sobbing  nervously.     It  was  her  first 


THE   ENDS   OF  A    GENERATION.  431 

proposal!  A  Schno?'rer  and  the  daughter  of  a  Schnorrer.  Yes, 
that  was  what  she  was.  And  she  had  even  repaid  her  bene- 
factors with  deception!  What  hopes  could  she  yet  cherish?  In 
literature  she  was  a  failure  ;  the  critics  gave  her  few  gleams  of 
encouragement,  while  all  her  acquaintances  from  Raphael  down- 
wards would  turn  and  rend  her,  should  she  dare  declare  herself. 
Nay,  she  was  ashamed  of  herself  for  the  mischief  she  had 
wrought.  No  one  in  the  world  cared  for  her ;  she  was  quite 
alone.  The  only  man  in  whose  breast  she  could  excite  love  or 
the  semblance  of  it  was  a  contemptible  cad.  And  who  was  she, 
that  she  should  venture  to  hope  for  love?  She  figured  herself 
as  an  item  in  a  catalogue  ;  '•  a  little,  ugly,  low-spirited,  absolutely 
penniless  young  woman,  subject  to  nervous  headaches."  Her 
sobs  were  interrupted  by  a  ghastly  burst  of  self-mockery.  Yes, 
Levi  was  right.  She  ought  to  tliink  herself  lucky  to  get  him. 
Again,  she  asked  herself  what  had  existence  to  offer  her.  Grad- 
ually her  sobs  ceased ;  she  remembered  to-night  would  be  Seder 
night,  and  her  thoughts,  so  violently  turned  Ghetto-wards,  went 
back  to  that  night,  soon  after  poor  Benjamin's  death,  when  she 
sat  before  the  garret  fire  striving  to  picture  the  larger  life  of  the 
future.     Well,  this  was  the  future. 


CHAPTER   Vni. 

THE   ENDS   OF   A   GENERATION. 

The  same  evening  Leonard  James  sat  in  the  stalls  of  the 
Colosseum  Music  Hall,  sipping  champagne  and  smoking  a  che- 
root. He  had  not  been  to  his  chambers  (which  were  only  round 
the  corner)  since  the  hapless  interview  with  Esther,  wandering 
about  in  the  streets  and  the  clubs  in  a  spirit  compounded  of  out- 
raged dignity,  remorse  and  recklessness.  All  men  must  dine ; 
and  dinner  at  the  Flamingo  Club  soothed  his  wounded  soul  and 
left  only  the  recklessness,  which  is  a  sensation  not  lacking  in 
agreeableness.  Through  the  rosy  mists  of  the  Burgundy  there 
began  to  surge  up  other  faces  than  that  cold  pallid  little  face 


432  GRANDCHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

which  had  hovered  before  him  all  the  afternoon  like  a  tantaliz- 
ing phantom ;  at  the  Chartreuse  stage  he  began  to  wonder  what 
hallucination,  what  aberration  of  sense  had  overcome  him,  that 
he  should  have  been  stirred  to  his  depths  and  distressed  so 
hugely.  Warmer  faces  were  these  that  swam  before  him,  faces 
fuller  of  the  joy  of  life.     The  devil  take  all  stuck-up  little  saints! 

About  eleven  o'clock,  when  the  great  ballet  of  Venetia  was 
over,  Leonard  hurried  round  to  the  stage-door,  saluted  the  door- 
keeper with  a  friendly  smile  and  a  sixpence,  and  sent  in  his  card 
to  Miss  Gladys  Wynne,  on  the  chance  that  she  might  have  no 
supper  engagement.  Miss  Wynne  was  only  a  humble  coryphee^ 
but  the  admirers  of  her  talent  were  numerous,  and  Leonard 
counted  himself  fortunate  in  that  she  was  able  to  afford  him  the 
privilege  of  her  society  to-night.  She  came  out  to  him  in  a  red 
fur-lined  cloak,  for  the  air  was  keen.  She  was  a  majestic  being 
with  a  florid  complexion  not  entirely  artificial,  big  blue  eyes  and 
teeth  of  that  whiteness  which  is  the  practical  equivalent  of  a 
sense  of  humor  in  evoking  the  possessor's  smiles.  They  drove  to 
a  restaurant  a  few  hundred  yards  distant,  for  Miss  Wynne  detested 
using  her  feet  except  to  dance  with.  It  was  a  fashionable  restau- 
rant, where  the  prices  obligingly  rose  after  ten,  to  accommodate 
the  purses  of  the  supper-^//>«/^/^.  Miss  Wynne  always  drank 
champagne,  except  when  alone,  and  in  politeness  Leonard  had 
to  imbibe  more  of  this  frothy  compound.  He  knew  he  would 
have  to  pay  for  the  day's  extravagance  by  a  week  of  comparative 
abstemiousness,  but  recklessness  generally  meant  magnificence 
with  him.  They  occupied  a  cosy  little  corner  behind  a  screen, 
and  Miss  Wynne  bubbled  over  with  laughter  like  an  animated 
champagne  bottle.  One  or  two  of  his  acquaintances  espied  him 
and  winked  genially,  and  Leonard  had  the  satisfaction  of  feeling 
that  he  was  not  dissipating  his  money  witliout  purchasing 
enhanced  reputation.  He  had  not  felt  in  gayer  spirits  for 
months  than  when,  with  Gladys  Wynne  on  his  arm  and  a  ciga- 
rette in  his  mouth,  he  sauntered  out  of  the  brilliantly-lit  restau- 
rant into  the  feverish  dusk  of  the  midnight  street,  shot  with 
points  of  fire. 

"  Hansom,  sir!" 


THE  ENDS   OF  A    GENERATION.  433 

A  great  cry  of  anguish  rent  the  air  —  Leonard's  cheeks  burned. 
Involuntarily  he  looked  round.  Then  his  heart  stood  still. 
There,  a  few  yards  from  him.  rooted  to  the  pavement,  with  stony 
staring  face,  was  Reb  Shemuel.  The  old  man  wore  an  un- 
brushed  high  hat  and  an  uncouth  unbuttoned  overcoat.  His 
hair  and  beard  were  quite  white  now,  and  the  strong  countenance 
lined  with  countless  wrinkles  was  distorted  with  pain  and  aston- 
ishment. He  looked  a  cross  between  an  ancient  prophet  and  a 
shabby  street  lunatic.  The  unprecedented  absence  of  the  son 
from  the  Seder  ceremonial  had  filled  the  Reb's  household  with 
the  gravest  alarm.  Nothing  short  of  death  or  mortal  sickness 
could  be  keeping  the  boy  away.  It  was  long  before  the  Reb 
could  bring  himself  to  commence  the  Hagadah  without  his  son 
to  ask  the  time-honored  opening  question  ;  and  when  he  did  he 
paused  every  minute  to  listen  to  footsteps  or  the  voice  of  the 
wind  without.  The  joyous  holiness  of  the  Festival  was  troubled, 
a  black  cloud  overshadowed  the  shining  table-cloth,  at  supper 
the  food  choked  him.  But  Seder  was  over  and  yet  no  sign  of 
the  missing  guest ;  no  word  of  explanation.  In  poignant  anxi- 
ety, the  old  man  walked  the  three  miles  that  lay  between  him 
and  tidings  of  the  beloved  son.  At  his  chambers  he  learned 
that  their  occupant  had  not  been  in  all  day.  Another  thing  he 
learned  there,  too ;  for  the  Mezuzah  which  he  had  fixed  up  on 
the  door-post  when  his  boy  moved  in  had  been  taken  down,  and 
it  filled  his  mind  with  a  dread  suspicion  that  Levi  had  not  been 
eating  at  the  kosher  restaurant  in  Hatton  Garden,  as  he  had 
faithfully  vowed  to  do.  But  even  this  terrible  thought  was 
swallowed  up  in  the  fear  that  some  accident  had  happened  to 
him.  He  haunted  the  house  for  an  hour,  filling  up  the  intervals 
of  fruitless  inquiry  with  little  random  walks  round  the  neighbor- 
hood, determined  not  to  return  home  to  his  wife  without  news  of 
their  child.  The  restless  life  of  the  great  twinkling  streets  was 
almost  a  novelty  to  him  ;  it  was  rarely  his  perambulations  in 
London  extended  outside  the  Ghetto,  and  the  radius  of  his  hfe 
was  proportionately  narrow, — with  the  intensity  that  narrowness 
forces  on  a  big  soul.     The  streets  dazzled  him,  he  looked  blink- 

2F 


434  GRANDCHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

ingly  hither  and  thither  in  the  despairing  hope  of  finding  his 
boy.  His  lips  moved  in  silent  prayer ;  he  raised  his  eyes  be- 
seechingly to  the  cold  glittering  heavens.  Then,  all  at  once  — 
as  the  clocks  pointed  to  midnight  —  he  found  him.  Found  him 
coming  out  of  an  unclean  place,  where  he  had  violated  the  Pass- 
over. Found  him  —  fit  climax  of  horror — with  the  "strangle 
woman  ''  of  The  Proverbs,  for  whom  the  faithful  Jew  has  a  hered- 
itary hatred. 

His  son  —  his,  Reb  Shemuers!  He,  the  servant  of  the  Most 
High,  the  teacher  of  the  Faith  to  reverential  thousands,  had 
brought  a  son  into  the  world  to  profane  the  Name!  Verily  his 
gray  hairs  would  go  down  with  sorrow  to  a  speedy  grave!  And 
the  sin  was  half  his  own ;  he  had  weakly  abandoned  his  boy  in 
the  midst  of  a  great  city.  For  one  awful  instant,  that  seemed  an 
eternity,  the  old  man  and  the  young  faced  each  other  across  the 
chasm  which  divided  their  lives.  To  the  son  the  shock  was 
scarcely  less  violent  than  to  the  father.  The  Seder,  which  the 
day's  unwonted  excitement  had  clean  swept  out  of  his  mind,  re- 
curred to  him  in  a  flash,  and  by  the  light  of  it  he  understood  the 
puzzle  of  his  father's  appearance.  The  thought  of  explaining 
rushed  up  only  to  be  dismissed.  The  door  of  the  restaurant  had 
not  yet  ceased  swinging  behind  him  —  there  was  too  much  to  ex- 
plain. He  felt  that  all  was  over  between  him  and  his  father.  It 
was  unpleasant,  terrible  even,  for  it  meant  the  annihilation  of  his 
resources.  But  though  he  still  had  an  almost  physical  fear  of 
the  old  man,  far  more  terrible  even  than  the  presence  of  his 
father  was  the  presence  of  Miss  Gladys  Wynne.  To  explain,  to 
brazen  it  out,  either  course  was  equally  impossible.  He  was  not 
a  brave  man,  but  at  that  moment  he  felt  death  were  preferable  to 
allowing  her  to  be  the  witness  of  such  a  scene  as  must  ensue. 
His  resolution  was  taken  within  a  few  brief  seconds  of  the  tragic 
rencontre.  With  wonderful  self-possession,  he  nodded  to  the 
cabman  who  had  put  the  question,  and  whose  vehicle  was  drawn 
up  opposite  the  restaurant.  Hastily  he  helped  the  unconscious 
Gladys  into  the  hansom.  He  was  putting  his  foot  on  the  step 
himself  when  Reb  ShemuePs  paralysis  relaxed  suddenly.  Out- 
raged by  this  final  pollution  of  the  Festival,  he  ran  forward  and 


THE  FLAG  FLUTTERS.  435 

laid  his  hand  on  Levi's  shoulder.  His  face  was  ashen,  his  heart 
thumped  painfully ;  the  hand  on  Levi's  cloak  shook  as  with 
palsy. 

Levi  winced;  the  old  awe  was  upon  him.  Through  a  blind- 
ing whirl  he  saw  Gladys  staring  wonderingly  at  the  queer-looking 
intruder.  He  gathered  all  his  mental  strength  together  with  a 
mighty  effort,  shook  off  the  great  trembling  hand  and  leaped 
into  the  hansom. 

•'  Drive  on !  "  came  in  strange  guttural  tones  from  his  parched 
throat. 

The  driver  lashed  the  horse ;  a  rough  jostled  the  old  man 
aside  and  slammed  the  door  to  ;  Leonard  mechanically  threw 
him  a  coin ;  the  hansom  glided  away. 

"  Who  was  that,  Leonard  ? "  said  Miss  Wynne,  curiously. 

"  Nobody ;  only  an  old  Jew  who  supplies  me  with  cash." 

Gladys  laughed  merrily  —  a  rippling,  musical  laugh. 

She  knew  the  sort  of  person. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

THE   FLAG   FLUTTERS. 

The  Flag  of  Jiidah^  price  one  penny,  largest  circulation  of 
any  Jewish  organ,  continued  to  flutter,  defying  the  battle,  the 
breeze  and  its  communal  contemporaries.  At  Passover  there 
had  been  an  illusive  augmentation  of  advertisements  proclaim- 
ing the  virtues  of  unleavened  everything.  With  the  end  of 
the  Festival,  most  of  these  fell  out,  staying  as  short  a  time  as 
the  daffodils.  Raphael  was  in  despair  at  the  meagre  attenuated 
appearance  of  the  erst  prosperous-looking  pages.  The  weekly 
loss  on  the  paper  weighed  upon  his  conscience. 

"We  shall  never  succeed,"  said  the  sub-editor,  shaking  his 
romantic  hair,  "  till  we  run  it  for  the  Upper  Ten.  These  ten 
people  can  make  the  paper,  just  as  they  are  now  killing  it  by 
refusing  their  countenance." 


436  GRANDCHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

"  But  they  must  surely  reckon  with  us  sooner  or  later,"  said 
Raphael. 

"  It  will  be  a  long  reckoning,  I  fear ;  you  take  my  advice  and 
put  in  more  butter.  It'll  be  kosher  butter,  coming  from  us." 
The  little  Bohemian  laughed  as  heartily  as  his  eyeglass  per- 
mitted. 

"  No  ;  we  must  stick  to  our  guns.  After  all,  we  have  had  some 
very  good  things  lately.  Those  articles  of  Pinchas's  are  not  bad 
either." 

"  They're  so  beastly  egotistical.  Still  his  theories  are  ingen- 
ious and  far  more  interesting  than  those  terribly  dull  long  letters 
of  Henry  Goldsmith,  which  you  will  put  in." 

Raphael  flushed  a  little  and  began  to  walk  up  and  down  the 
new  and  superior  sanctum  with  his  ungainly  strides,  puffing  furi- 
ously at  his  pipe  The  appearance  of  the  room  was  less  bare ; 
the  floor  was  carpeted  with  old  newspapers  and  scraps  of  letters. 
A  huge  picture  of  an  Atlantic  Liner,  the  gift  of  a  Steamship 
Company,  leaned  cumbrously  against  a  wall. 

"  Still,  all  our  literary  excellencies,"  pursued  Sampson,  "  are 
outweighed  by  our  shortcomings  in  getting  births,  marriages  and 
deaths.  We  are  gravelled  for  lack  of  that  sort  of  matter.  What 
is  the  use  of  your  elaborate  essay  on  the  Septuagint,  when  the 
public  is  dying  to  hear  who's  dead?" 

"■  Yes,  I  am  afraid  it  is  so,"  said  Raphael,  emitting  a  huge  vol- 
ume of  smoke. 

"  Tm  sure  it  is  so.  If  you  would  only  give  me  a  freer  hand,  I 
feel  sure  I  could  work  up  that  column.  We  can  at  least  make  a 
better  show ;  I  would  avoid  the  danger  of  discovery  by  shifting 
the  scene  to  foreign  parts.  I  could  marry  some  people  in  Bom- 
bay and  kill  some  in  Cape  Town,  redressing  the  balance  by 
bringing  others  into  existence  at  Cairo  and  Cincinnati.  Our 
contemporaries  would  score  off"  us  in  local  interest,  but  we  should 
take  the  shine  out  of  them  in  cosmopolitanism." 

"No,  no;  remember  that  Meshujuad^^''  said  Raphael,  smiling. 
"  He  was  real ;  if  you  had  allowed  me  to  invent  a  corpse,  we 
should  have  been  saved  that  coiitretonps.     We  have  one  ■  death ' 
this  week  fortunately ;  and  I  am  sure  to  fish  out  another  in  tlie 


THE   FLAG   FLUTTERS.  437 

daily  papers.  But  we  haven't  had  a  '  birth "'  for  three  weeks  run- 
ning; it's  just  ruining  our  reputation.  Everybody  knows  that 
the  orthodox  are  a  fertile  lot,  and  it  looks  as  if  we  hadn't  got  the 
support  even  of  our  own  party.  Ta  rara  ta!  Now  you  must 
really  let  me  have  a  '  birth.'  I  give  you  my  word,  nobody'll  sus- 
pect it  isn't  genuine.  Come  now.  How's  this?"  He  scribbled 
on  a  piece  of  paper  and  handed  it  to  Raphael,  who  read : 

"  Birth,  on  the  15th  inst.  at  17  East  Stuart  Lane,  Kennington, 
the  wife  of  Joseph  Samuels  of  a  son." 

"There!"  said  Sampson  proudly,  "Who  would  believe  the 
little  beggar  had  no  existence  ?  Nobody  lives  in  Kennington,  and 
that  East  Stuart  Lane  is  a  master-stroke.  You  might  suspect 
Stuart  Lane,  but  nobody  would  ever  dream  there's  no  such  place 
as  East  Stuart  Lane.  Don't  say  the  little  chap  must  die.  I  begin 
to  take  quite  a  paternal  interest  in  him.  May  I  announce  him  ? 
Don't  be  too  scrupulous.  Who'll  be  a  penny  the  worse  for  it?  " 
He  began  to  chirp,  with  bird-like  trills  of  melody. 

Raphael  hesitated  :  his  moral  fibre  had  been  weakened.  It  is 
impossible  to  touch  print  and  not  be  defiled. 

Suddenly  Sampson  ceased  to  whistle  and  smote  his  head  with 
his  chubby  fist.     "Ass  that  I  am!  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  What  new  reasons  have  you  discovered  to  think  so  ? "  said 
Raphael. 

"Why,  we  dare  not  create  boys.  We  shall  be  found  out; 
boys  must  be  circumcised  and  some  of  the  periphrastically  styled 
'Initiators  into  the  Abrahamic  Covenant'  may  spot  us.  It  was 
a  girl  that  Mrs.  Joseph  Samuels  was  guilty  of."  He  amended 
the  sex. 

Raphael  laughed  heartily.  "Put  it  by;  there's  another  day 
yet ;  we  shall  see." 

"Very  well,"  said  Sampson  resignedly-  "  Perhaps  by  to-mor- 
row we  shall  be  in  luck  and  able  to  sing  '  unto  us  a  child  is  born, 
unto  us  a  son  is  given.'  By  the  way,  did  you  see  the  letter 
complaining  of  our  using  that  quotation,  on  the  ground  it  was 
from  the  New  Testament?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Raphael  smiling.  "  Of  course  the  man  doesn't 
know  his  Old  Testament,  but  I  trace  his  misconception  to  his 


438  GRANDCHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

having  heard  HandePs  Messiah.  I  wonder  he  doesn't  find  fault 
with  the  Morning  Service  for  containing  the  Lord's  Prayer,  or 
with  Moses  for  saying  •  Tliou  shalt  love  thy  neighbor  as  thy- 
self.' '' 

"  Still,  that's  the  sort  of  man  newspapers  have  to  cater  for," 
said  the  sub-editor.  "  And  we  don't.  We  have  cut  down  our 
Provincial  Notes  to  a  column.  My  idea  would  be  to  make  two 
pages  of  them,  not  cutting  out  any  of  the  people's  names  and 
leaving  in  more  of  the  adjectives.  Every  man's  name  we  men- 
tion means  at  least  one  copy  sold.  Why  can't  we  drag  in  a  couple 
of  thousand  names  every  week?" 

'•  That  would  make  our  circulation  altogether  nominal/'  laughed 
Raphael,  not  taking  the  suggestion  seriously. 

Little  Sampson  was  not  only  the  Mephistopheles  of  the  office, 
debauching  his  editor's  guileless  mind  with  all  the  wily  ways  of 
the  old  journalistic  hand  ;  he  was  of  real  use  in  protecting  Ra- 
phael against  the  thousand  and  one  pitfalls  that  make  the  edi- 
torial chair  as  perilous  to  the  occupant  as  Sweeney  Todd's ; 
against  the  people  who  tried  to  get  libels  inserted  as  news  or 
as  advertisements,  against  the  self-puffers  and  the  axe-grinders. 
He  also  taught  Raphael  how  to  commence  interestmg  corre- 
spondence and  how  to  close  awkward.  The  Flag  played  a  part 
in  many  violent  discussions.  Little  Sampson  was  great  in  invent- 
ing communal  crises,  and  in  getting  the  public  to  believe  it  was 
excited.  He  also  won  a  great  victory  over  the  other  party  every 
three  weeks ;  Raphael  did  not  wish  to  have  so  many  of  these 
victories,  but  little  Sampson  pointed  out  that  if  he  did  not  have 
them,  the  rival  newspaper  would  annex  them.  One  of  the  earli- 
est sensations  of  the  Flag  was  a  correspondence  exposing  the 
misdeeds  of  some  communal  officials  ;  but  in  the  end  the  very 
persons  who  made  the  allegations  ate  humble  pie.  Evidently 
official  pressure  had  been  brought  to  bear,  for  red  tape  rampant 
might  have  been  the  heraldic  device  of  Jewish  officialdom.  In 
no  department  did  Jews  exhibit  more  strikingly  their  marvellous 
powers  of  assimilation  to  their  neighbors. 

Among  the  discussions  which  rent  the  body  politic  was  the 
question  of  building  a  huge  synagogue  for  the  poor.     The  Flag 


THE  FLAG   FLUTTERS.  439 

said  it  would  only  concentrate  them,  and  its  word  prevailed. 
There  were  also  the  grave  questions  of  English  and  harmoniums 
in  the  synagogue,  of  the  confirmation  of  girls  and  their  utilization 
in  the  choir.  The  Rabbinate,  whose  grave  difficulties  in  recon- 
ciling all  parties  to  its  rule,  were  augmented  by  the  existence  of 
the  Flag^  pronounced  it  heinous  to  introduce  English  excerpts 
into  the  liturgy ;  if,  however,  they  were  not  read  from  the 
central  platform,  they  were  legitimate  ;  harmoniums  were  per- 
missible, but  only  during  special  services  ;  and  an  organization 
of  mixed  voices  was  allowable,  but  not  a  mixed  choir ;  children 
might  be  confirmed,  but  the  word  "  confirmation "  should  be 
avoided.  Poor  Rabbinate!  The  politics  of  the  little  community 
were  extremely  complex.  What  with  rabid  zealots  yearning  for 
the  piety  of  the  good  old  times,  spiritually-minded  ministers 
working  with  uncomfortable  earnestness  for  a  larger  Judaism, 
radicals  dropping  out,  moderates  clamoring  for  quiet,  and  schis- 
matics organizing  new  and  tiresome  movements,  the  Rabbinate 
could  scarcely  do  aught  else  than  emit  sonorous  platitudes  and 
remain  in  office. 

And  beneath  all  these  surface  ruffles  was  the  steady  silent  drift 
of  the  new  generation  away  from  the  old  landmarks.  The  syna- 
gogue did  not  attract ;  it  spoke  Hebrew  to  those  whose  mother- 
tongue  was  English ;  its  appeal  was  made  through  channels 
which  conveyed  nothing  to  them  ;  it  w^as  out  of  touch  with 
their  real  lives ;  its  liturgy  prayed  for  the  restoration  of  sacri- 
fices which  they  did  not  want  and  for  the  welfare  of  Babylonian 
colleges  that  had  ceased  to  exist.  The  old  generation  merely 
believed  its  beliefs  ;  if  the  new  as  much  as  professed  them,  it 
was  only  by  virtue  of  the  old  home  associations  and  the  inertia 
of  indifference.  Practically,  it  was  without  religion.  The  Reform 
Synagogue,  though  a  centre  of  culture  and  prosperity,  was  cold, 
crude  and  devoid  of  magnetism.  Half  a  century  of  stagnant 
reform  and  restless  dissolution  had  left  Orthodoxy  still  the  Estab- 
lished Doxy.  For,  as  Orthodoxy  evaporated  in  England,  it  was 
replaced  by  fresh  streams  from  Russia,  to  be  evaporated  and 
replaced  in  turn,  England  acting  as  an  automatic  distillery. 
Thus  the  Rabbinate  still  reigned,  though  it  scarcely  governed 


440  GRANDCHILDREN   OF   THE    GHETTO. 

either  the  East  End  or  the  West,  For  the  East  End  formed 
a  Federation  of  the  smaller  synagogues  to  oppose  the  dominance 
of  the  United  Synagogue,  importing  a  minister  of  superior  ortho- 
doxy from  the  Continent,  and  the  Flag  had  powerful  leaders  on 
the  great  struggle  between  plutocracy  and  democracy,  and  the 
voice  of  Mr.  Henry  Goldsmith  was  heard  on  behalf  of  White- 
chapel.  And  the  West,  in  so  far  as  it  had  spiritual  aspirations, 
fed  them  on  non-Jewish  literature  and  the  higher  thought  of  the 
age.  The  finer  spirits,  indeed,  were  groping  for  a  purpose  and  a 
destiny,  doubtful  even  if  the  racial  isolation  they  perpetuated 
were  not  an  anachronism.  While  the  community  had  been 
battling  for  civil  and  religious  liberty,  there  had  been  a  unifying, 
almost  spiritualizing,  influence  in  the  sense  of  common  injustice, 
and  the  question  ciii  bow  had  been  postponed.  Drowning  men 
do  not  ask  if  life  is  worth  living.  Later,  the  Russian  persecu- 
tions came  to  interfere  again  with  national  introspection,  sending 
a  powerful  wave  of  racial  sympathy  round  the  earth.  In  England 
a  backwash  of  the  wave  left  the  Asmonean  Society,  wherein,  for 
the  first  time  in  history,  Jews  gathered  with  nothing  in  common 
save  blood  —  artists,  lawyers,  writers,  doctors  —  men  who  in  pre- 
emancipation  times  might  have  become  Christians  like  Heine, 
but  who  now  formed  an  effective  protest  against  the  popular 
conceptions  of  the  Jew,  and  a  valuable  antidote  to  the  dispropor- 
tionate notoriety  achieved  by  less  creditable  types.  At  the 
Asmonean  Society,  brilliant  free-lances,  each  thinking  himself 
a  solitary  exception  to  a  race  of  bigots,  met  one  another  in 
mutual  astonishment.  Raphael  alienated  several  readers  by 
uncompromising  approval  of  this  characteristically  modern  move- 
ment. Another  symptom  of  the  new  intensity  of  national  brother- 
hood was  the  attempt  towards  amalgamating  the  Spanish  and 
German  communities,  but  brotherhood  broke  down  under  the 
disparity  of  revenue,  the  rich  Spanish  sect  displaying  once  again 
the  exclusiveness  which  has  marked  its  history. 

Amid  these  internal  problems,  the  unspeakable  immigrant  was 
an  added  thorn.  Very  often  the  victim  of  Continental  persecu- 
tion was  assisted  on  to  America,  l^ut  the  idea  that  he  was  hurtful 
to  native  labor  rankled  in  the  minds  of  Englishmen,  and  the  Jew- 


THE  FLAG  FLUTTERS.  441 

ish  leaders  were  anxious  to  remove  it,  all  but  proving  him  a  boon. 
In  despair,  it  was  sought  to  anglicize  him  by  discourses  in  Yid- 
dish. With  the  Poor  Alien  question  was  connected  the  return 
to  Palestine.  The  Holy  Land  League  still  pinned  its  faith  to 
Zion,  and  the  Flag  was  with  it  to  the  extent  of  preferring  the 
ancient  father-land,  as  the  scene  of  agricultural  experiments,  to 
the  South  American  soils  selected  by  other  schemes.  It  was 
generally  felt  tliat  the  redemption  of  Judaism  lay  largely  in  a 
return  to  the  land,  after  several  centuries  of  less  primitive  and 
more  degrading  occupations.  When  South  America  was  chosen, 
Strelitski  was  the  first  to  counsel  the  League  to  co-operate  in  the 
experiment,  on  the  principle  that  half  a  loaf  is  better  than  no 
bread.  But,  for  the  orthodox  the  difficulties  of  regeneration  by 
the  spade  were  enhanced  by  the  Sabbatical  Year  Institute  of  the 
Pentateuch,  ordaining  that  land  must  lie  fallow  in  the  seventh 
year.  It  happened  that  this  septennial  holiday  was  just  going 
on,  and  the  faithful  Palestine  farmers  were  starving  in  volun- 
tary martyrdom.  The  Flag  raised  a  subscription  for  their  bene- 
fit. Raphael  wished  to  head  the  list  with  twenty  pounds,  but  on 
the  advice  of  little  Sampson  he  broke  it  up  into  a  variety  of  small 
amounts,  spread  over  several  weeks,  and  attached  to  imaginary 
names  and  initials.  Seeing  so  many  other  readers  contributing, 
few  readers  felt  called  upon  to  tax  themselves.  The  Flag 
received  the  ornate  thanks  of  a  pleiad  of  Palestine  Rabbis  for 
its  contribution  of  twenty-five  guineas,  two  of  which  were  from 
Mr.  Henry  Goldsmith.  Gideon,  the  member  for  Whitechapel, 
remained  callous  to  the  sufferings  of  his  brethren  in  the  Holy 
Land.  In  daily  contact  with  so  many  diverse  interests,  Raphael's 
mind  widened  as  imperceptibly  as  the  body  grows.  He  learned 
the  manners  of  many  men  and  committees  —  admired  the  gen- 
uine goodness  of  some  of  the  Jewish  philanthropists  and  the 
fluent  oratory  of  all ;  even  while  he  realized  the  pettiness  of  their 
outlook  and  their  reluctance  to  face  facts.  They  were  timorous, 
with  a  dread  of  decisive  action  and  definitive  speech,  suggesting 
the  differential,  deprecatory  corporeal  wrigglings  of  the  mediaeval 
few.  They  seemed  to  keep  strict  ward  over  the  technical  privi- 
leges of  the  different  bodies  they  belonged  to,  and  in  their  capac- 


442  GRANDCHILDREN   OF   THE    GHETTO. 

ity  of  members  of  the  Fiddle-de-dee  to  quarrel  with  themselves 
as  members  of  the  Fiddle-de-dum,  and  to  pass  votes  of  condo- 
lence or  congratulation  twice  over  as  members  of  both.  But 
the  more  he  saw  of  his  race  the  more  he  marvelled  at  the  omni- 
present ability,  being  tempted  at  times  to  allow  truth  to  the  view 
that  Judasim  was  a  successful  sociological  experiment,  the  moral 
and  physical  training  of  a  chosen  race  whose  very  dietary  had 
been  religiously  regulated. 

And  even  the  revelations  of  the  seamy  side  of  human  character 
which  thrust  themselves  upon  the  most  purblind  of  editors  were 
blessings  in  disguise.  The  office  of  the  Flag  was  a  forcing-house 
for  Raphael ;  many  latent  thoughts  developed  into  extraordinary 
maturity.  A  month  of  the  Flag  was  equal  to  a  year  of  experi- 
ence in  the  outside  world.  And  not  even  little  Sampson  him- 
self was  keener  to  appreciate  the  humors  of  the  office  when  no 
principle  was  involved ;  though  what  made  the  sub-editor  roar 
with  laughter  often  made  the  editor  miserable  for  the  day.  For 
compensation,  Raphael  had  felicities  from  which  little  Sampson 
was  cut  off;  gladdened  by  revelations  of  earnestness  and  piety  in 
letters  that  were  merely  bad  English  to  the  sub-editor. 

A  thing  that  set  them  both  laughing  occurred  on  the  top  of 
their  conversation  about  the  reader  who  objected  to  quotations 
from  the  Old  Testament.  A  package  of  four  old  Flags  arrived, 
accompanied  by  a  letter.     This  was  the  letter; 

"  Dear  Sir  : 

•"Your  man  called  upon  me  last  night,  asking  for  payment 
for  four  advertisements  of  my  Passover  groceries.  But  I  have 
changed  my  mind  about  them  and  do  not  want  them ;  and 
therefore  beg  to  return  the  four  numbers  sent  me  You  will  see 
I  have  not  opened  them  or  soiled  them  in  any  way,  so  please 
cancel  the  claim  in  your  books 

"  Yours  truly, 

"  Isaac  Wollberg." 

"  He  evidently  thinks  the  vouchers  sent  him  are  the  adver- 
tisements,"' screamed  little  Sampson. 


THE  FLAG  FLUTTERS.  443 

"  But  if  he  is  as  ignorant  as  all  that,  how  could  he  have  written 
the  letter?"  asked  Raphael. 

"  Oh,  it  was  probably  written  for  him  for  twopence  by  the 
Shalotten  Sham;nos,  the  begging-letter  writer." 

"This  is  almost  as  funny  as  Karlkammer!  "  said  Raphael. 

Karlkammer  had  sent  in  a  long  essay  on  the  Sabbatical 
Year  question,  which  Raphael  had  revised  and  published  with 
Karlkammer's  title  at  the  head  and  Karlkammer's  name  at  the 
foot.  Yet,  owing  to  the  few  rearrangements  and  inversions  of 
sentences,  Karlkammer  never  identified  it  as  his  own,  and  was 
perpetually  calling  to  inquire  when  his  article  would  appear.  He 
brought  with  him  fresh  manuscripts  of  the  article  as  originally 
written.  He  was  not  the  only  caller;  Raphael  was  much  pes- 
tered by  visitors  on  kindly  counsel  bent  or  stern  exhortation. 
The  sternest  were  those  who  had  never  yet  paid  their  subscrip- 
tions. De  Haan  also  kept  up  proprietorial  rights  of  interference. 
In  private  life  Raphael  suffered  much  from  pillars  of  the  Montagu 
Samuels  type,  who  accused  him  of  flippancy,  and  no  communal 
crisis  invented  by  little  Sampson  ever  equalled  the  pother  and 
commotion  that  arose  when  Raphael  incautiously  allowed  him 
to  burlesque  the  notorious  Mordecai  yosephs  by  comically  ex- 
aggerating its  exaggerations.  The  community  took  it  seriously, 
as  an  attack  upon  the  race.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Henry  Goldsmith 
were  scandalized,  and  Raphael  had  to  shield  little  Sampson  by 
accepting  the  whole  responsibility  for  its  appearance. 

*'  Talking  of  Karlkammer's  article,  are  you  ever  going  to  use 
up  Herman's  scientific  paper?"  asked  little  Sampson. 

"  Fm  afraid  so,"  said  Raphael ;  '■'  I  don't  know  how  we  can 
get  out  of  it.  But  his  eternal  kosher  meat  sticks  in  my  throat. 
We  are  Jews  for  the  love  of  God,  not  to  be  saved  from  con- 
sumption bacilli.  But  I  won't  use  it  to-morrow;  we  have  Miss 
Cissy  Levine's  tale.  It's  not  half  bad.  What  a  pity  she  has 
the  expenses  of  her  books  paid!  If  she  had  to  achieve  publica- 
tion by  merit,  her  style  might  be  less  slipshod." 

"  I  wish  some  rich  Jew  would  pay  the  expenses  of  my  opera 
tour,"  said  little  Sampson,  ruefully.  "  My  style  of  doing  the 
thing  would  be  improved-     The  people  who  are  backing  me  up 


444  GRANDCHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

are  awfully  stingy,  actually  buying  up  battered  old  helmets  for 
my  chorus  of  Amazons." 

Intermittently  the  question  of  the  sub-editor^s  departure  for 
the  provinces  came  up ;  it  was  only  second  in  frequency  to  his 
"  victories."  About  once  a  month  the  preparations  for  the  tour 
were  complete,  and  he  would  go  about  in  a  heyday  of  jubilant 
vocalization ;  then  his  comic  prima-donna  would  fall  ill  or 
elope,  his  conductor  would  get  drunk,  his  chorus  would  strike, 
and  little  Sampson  would  continue  to  sub-edit  The  Flag  of 
Jiidah. 

Pinchas  unceremoniously  turned  the  handle  of  the  door  and 
came  in.  The  sub-editor  immediately  hurried  out  to  get  a  cup 
of  tea.  Pinchas  had  fastened  upon  him  the  responsibility  for 
the  omission  of  an  article  last  week,  and  had  come  to  believe 
that  he  was  in  league  with  rival  Continental  scholars  to  keep 
Melchitsedek  Pinchas's  effusions  out  of  print,  and  so  little 
Sampson  dared  not  face  the  angry  savant.  Raphael,  thus  de- 
serted, cowered  in  his  chair.  He  did  not  fear  death,  but  he 
feared  Pinchas,  and  had  fallen  into  the  cowardly  habit  of  bribing 
him  lavishly  not  to  fill  the  paper.  Fortunately,  the  poet  was  in 
high  feather. 

"  DonH  forget  the  announcement  that  I  lecture  at  the  Club  on 
Sunday.  You  see  all  the  efforts  of  Reb  Sliemuel,  of  the  Rev. 
Joseph  Strelitski,  of  the  Chief  Rabbi,  of  Ebenezer  vid  his  blue 
spectacles,  of  Sampson,  of  all  the  phalanx  of  English  Men-of-the- 
Earth,  they  all  fail.     Ah,  I  am  a  great  man." 

''  I  wonH  forget,"  said  Raphael  wearily.  ''  The  announcement 
is  already  in  print." 

"Ah,  I  love  you.  You  are  the  best  man  in  the  vorld.  It  is 
you  who  have  championed  me  against  those  who  are  thirsting 
for  my  blood.  And  now  I  vill  tell  you  joyful  news.  There  is  a 
maiden  coming  up  to  see  you  —  she  is  asking  in  the  publisher's 
office  —  oh  such  a  lovely  maiden!" 

Pinchas  grinned  all  over  his  face,  and  was  like  to  dig:  his  editor 
in  the  ribs. 

"What  maiden?  " 

"  I  do  not  know;    but   vai-r-r-y  beaudiful.      Aha,   I   vill   go. 


ESTHER   DEFIES    THE    UNIVERSE.  445 

Have  you  not  been  good  \.0  7He?  But  vy  come  not  beaudiful 
maidens  to  ;//<?.^" 

"  No,  no,  you  needn't  go,"  said  Raphael,  getting  red. 

Pinchas  grinned  as  one  who  knew  better,  and  struck  a  match 
to  rekindle  a  stump  of  cigar.  "No,  no,  I  go  write  my  lecture  — 
oh  it  vill  be  a  great  lecture.  You  vill  announce  it  in  the  paper! 
You  vill  not  leave  it  out  like  Sampson  left  out  my  article  last 
week."  He  was  at  the  door  now,  with  his  finger  alongside  his 
nose. 

Raphael  shook  himself  impatiently,  and  the  poet  threw  the 
door  wide  open  and  disappeared. 

For  a  full  minute  Raphael  dared  not  look  towards  the  door  for 
fear  of  seeing  the  poet's  cajoling  head  framed  in  the  opening. 
When  he  did,  he  was  transfixed  to  see  Esther  AnselPs  there, 
regarding  him  pensively. 

His  heart  beat  painfully  at  the  shock  ;  the  room  seemed  flooded 
with  sunlight. 

"  May  I  come  in  ?  "  she  said,  smiling. 


CHAPTER   X. 

ESTHER   DEFIES   THE   UNIVERSE. 

Esther  wore  a  neat  black  mantle,  and  looked  taller  and  more 
womanly  than  usual  in  a  pretty  bonnet  and  a  spotted  veil.  There 
was  a  flush  of  color  in  her  cheeks,  her  eyes  sparkled.  She  had 
walked  in  cold  sunny  weather  from  the  British  Museum  (where 
she  was  still  supposed  to  be),  and  the  wind  had  blown  loose  a 
little  wisp  of  hair  over  the  small  shell-like  ear.  In  her  left  hand 
she  held  a  roll  of  manuscript.  It  contained  her  criticisms  of  the 
May  Exhibitions.     Whereby  hung  a  tale. 

In  the  dark  days  that  followed  the  scene  with  Levi,  Esther's 
resolution  had  gradually  formed.  The  position  had  become 
untenable.  She  could  no  longer  remain  a  Schnorrer ;  abusing 
the  bounty  of  her  benefactors  into  the  bargain.  She  must  leave 
the  Goldsmiths,  and  at  once.     That  was  imperative  ;  the  second 


446  GRANDCHILDREN  OF  THE    GHETTO. 

step  could  be  thought  over  when  she  had  taken  the  first.  And 
yet  she  postponed  taking  the  first.  Once  she  drifted  out  of  her 
present  sphere,  she  could  not  answer  for  the  future,  could  not  be 
certain,  for  instance,  that  she  would  be  able  to  redeem  her  prom- 
ise to  Raphael  to  sit  in  judgment  upon  the  Academy  and  other 
picture  galleries  that  bloomed  in  May.  At  any  rate,  once  she 
had  severed  connection  with  the  Goldsmith  circle,  she  would  not 
care  to  renew  it,  even  in  the  case  of  Raphael.  No,  it  was  best  to 
get  this  last  duty  off  her  shoulders,  then  to  say  farewell  to  him 
and  all  the  other  human  constituents  of  her  brief  period  of  par- 
tial sunshine.  Besides,  the  personal  delivery  of  the  precious 
manuscript  would  afford  her  the  opportunity  of  this  farewell  to 
him.  With  his  social  remissness,  it  was  unlikely  he  would  call 
soon  upon  the  Goldsmiths,  and  she  now  restricted  her  friend- 
ship with  Addie  to  receiving  Addie's  visits,  so  as  to  prepare  for 
its  dissolution.  Addie  amused  her  by  reading  extracts  from  Sid- 
ney's letters,  for  the  brilliant  young  artist  had  suddenly  gone  off 
to  Norway  the  morning  after  the  debut  of  the  new  Hamlet.  Es- 
ther felt  that  it  might  be  as  well  if  she  stayed  on  to  see  how  the 
drama  of  these  two  lives  developed.  These  things  she  told  her- 
self in  the  reaction  from  the  first  impulse  of  instant  flight. 

Raphael  put  down  his  pipe  at  the  sight  of  her  and  a  frank 
smile  of  welcome  shone  upon  his  flushed  face. 

"  This  is  so  kind  of  you !  "  he  said  ;  ''  who  would  have  thought 
of  seeing  you  here?  I  am  so  glad.  I  hope  you  are  well.  You 
look  better."  He  was  wringing  her  little  gloved  hand  violently 
as  he  spoke. 

"  I  feel  better,  too,  thank  you.  The  air  is  so  exhilarating. 
Fm  glad  to  see  you're  still  in  the  land  of  the  living.  Addie  has 
told  me  of  your  debauches  of  work." 

"  Addie  is  foolish.  I  never  felt  better.  Come  inside.  Don't 
be  afraid  of  walking  on  the  papers.     They're  all  old." 

"I  always  heard  literary  people  were  untidy,"  said  Esther 
smiling.     '■'■You  must  be  a  regular  genius." 

"Well,  you  see  we  don't  have  many  ladies  coming  here,"  said 
Raphael  deprecatingly,  '"though  we  have  plenty  of  old  women." 

"  It's  evident  you  don't.     Else  some  of  them  would  go  down 


ESTHER  DEFIES    THE    UNIVERSE.  447 

on  their  hands  and  knees  and  never  get  up  till  this  litter  was 
tidied  up  a  bit." 

"Never  mind  that  now,  Miss  Ansell.  Sit  down,  won't  you? 
You  must  be  tired.  Take  the  editorial  chair.  Allow  me  a  min- 
ute.'"    He  removed  some  books  from  it. 

"Is  that  the  way  you  sit  on  the  books  sent  in  for  review?" 
She  sat  down.  "Dear  me!  It's  quite  comfortable.  You  men 
like  comfort,  even  the  most  self-sacrificing.  But  where  is  your 
fighting-editor?  It  would  be  awkward  if  an  aggrieved  reader 
came  in  and  mistook  me  for  the  editor,  wouldn't  it  ?  It  isn't  safe 
for  me  to  remain  in  this  chair." 

"Oh,  yes  it  is!  We've  tackled  our  aggrieved  readers  for  to- 
day," he  assured  her. 

She  looked  curiously  round.  "  Please  pick  up  your  pipe.  It's 
going  out.  I  don't  mind  smoke,  indeed  I  don't.  Even  if  I  did, 
I  should  be  prepared  to  pay  the  penalty  of  bearding  an  editor  in 
his  den." 

Raphael  resumed  his  pipe  gratefully. 

"  I  wonder  though  you  don't  set  the  place  on  fire,"  Esther 
rattled  on,  "with  all  this  mass  of  inflammable  matter  about." 

"  It  is  very  dry,  most  of  it,"  he  admitted,  with  a  smile. 

"  Why  don't  you  have  a  real  fire  ?  It  must  be  quite  cold 
sitting  here  all  day.  What's  that  great  ugly  picture  over 
there  ? " 

"That  steamer!     It's  an  advertisement." 

"Heavens!  What  a  decoration.  I  should  like  to  have  the 
criticism  of  that  picture.  I've  brought  you  those  picture-galleries, 
you  know ;  that's  what  I've  come  for." 

"Thank  you!  That's  very  good  of  you.  I'll  send  it  to  the 
printers  at  once."  He  took  the  roll  and  placed  it  in  a  pigeon- 
hole, without  taking  his  eyes  off  her  face. 

"Why  don't  you  throw  that  awful  staring  thing  away?"  she 
asked,  contemplating  the  steamer  with  a  morbid  fascination, 
"  and  sweep  away  the  old  papers,  and  have  a  few  little  water- 
colors  hung  up  and  put  a  vase  of  flowers  on  your  desk.  I  wish  I 
had  the  control  of  the  office  for  a  week." 

"I  wish  you  had,"  he  said  gallantly.     "I  can't  find  time  to 


448  GRANDCHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

think  of  those  things.  I  am  sure  you  are  brightening  it  up 
already." 

The  little  blush  on  her  cheek  deepened.  Compliment  was 
unwonted  with  him  ;  and  indeed,  he  spoke  as  he  felt.  The  sight 
of  her  seated  so  strangely  and  unexpectedly  in  his  own  humdrum 
sanctum ;  the  imaginary  picture  of  her  beautifying  it  and  evolv- 
ing harmony  out  of  the  chaos  with  artistic  touches  of  her  dainty 
hands,  filled  him  with  pleasant,  tender  thoughts,  such  as  he 
had  scarce  knowm  before.  The  commonplace  editorial  chair 
seemed  to  have  undergone  consecration  and  poetic  transforma- 
tion. Surely  the  sunshine  that  streamed  through  the  dusty  win- 
dow would  for  ever  rest  on  it  henceforwards.  And  yet  the  whole 
thing  appeared  fantastic  and  unreal. 

"  I  hope  you  are  speaking  the  truth,"  replied  Esther  with  a 
little  laugh.  "You  need  brightening,  you  old  dry-as-dust  phi- 
lanthropist, sitting  poring  over  stupid  manuscripts  when  you 
ought  to  be  in  the  country  enjoying  the  sunshine."  She  spoke 
in  airy  accents,  with  an  undercurrent  of  astonishment  at  her 
attack  of  high  spirits  on  an  occasion  she  had  designed  to  be 
harrowing. 

"Why,  I  haven^t  looked  at  your  manuscript  yet,"  he  retorted 
gaily,  but  as  he  spoke  there  flashed  upon  him  a  delectable  vision 
of  blue  sea  and  waving  pines  with  one  fair  wood-nymph  flitting 
through  the  trees,  luring  him  on  from  this  musty  cell  of  never- 
ending  work  to  unknown  ecstasies  of  youth  and  joyousness. 
The  leafy  avenues  were  bathed  in  sacred  sunlight,  and  a  low 
magic  music  thrilled  through  the  quiet  air.  It  was  but  the  dream 
of  a  second  —  the  dingy  walls  closed  round  him  again,  the  great 
ugly  steamer,  that  never  went  anywhere,  sailed  on.  But  the 
wood-nymph  did  not  vanish  ;  the  sunbeam  was  still  on  the  edi- 
torial chair,  lighting  up  the  little  face  with  a  celestial  halo.  And 
when  she  spoke  again,  it  was  as  if  the  music  that  filled  the  vision- 
ary glades  was  a  reality,  too. 

"  It^s  all  very  well  your  treating  reproof  as  a  jest,"  she  said, 
more  gravely.  "  Can''t  you  see  that  it's  false  economy  to  risk  a 
break-down  even  if  you  use  yourself  purely  for  others?  You're 
looking  far  from  well.     You   are    overtaxing    human    strength. 


ESTHER  DEFIES    THE    UNIVERSE.  449 

Come  now,  admit  my  sermon  is  just.  Remember  I  speak  not 
as  a  Pharisee,  but  as  one  who  made  the  mistake  herself —  a 
fellow-sinner.""    She  turned  her  dark  eyes  reproachfully  upon  him. 

"I  —  I  —  don't  sleep  very  well/'  he  admitted,  "but  otherwise 
I  assure  you  I  feel  all  right." 

It  was  the  second  time  she  had  manifested  concern  for  his 
health.  The  blood  coursed  deliciously  in  his  veins ;  a  thrill 
ran  through  his  whole  form.  The  gentle  anxious  face  seemed 
to  grow  angelic.  Could  she  really  care  if  his  health  gave  way? 
Again  he  felt  a  rush  of  self-pity  that  filled  his  eyes  with  tears. 
He  was  grateful  to  her  for  sharing  his  sense  of  the  empty  cheer- 
lessness  of  his  existence.  .He  wondered  why  it  had  seemed  so 
full  and  cheery  just  before. 

"And  you  used  to  sleep  so  well,"  said  Esther,  slily,  remem- 
bering Addie's  domestic  revelations.  "  My  stupid  manuscript 
should  come  in  useful." 

"Oh,  forgiv.e  my  stupid  joke!"    he  said  remorsefully. 

"  Forgive  mine !  "  she  answered.  "  Sleeplessness  is  too  ter- 
rible to  joke  about.     Again  I  speak  as  one  who  knows." 

"Oh,  Pm  sorry  to  hear  that!"  he  said,  his  egoistic  tender- 
ness instantly  transformed  to  compassionate  solicitude. 

"Never  mind  me ;  I  am  a  woman  and  can  take  care  of  myself. 
Why  don't  you  go  over  to  Norway  and  join  Mr.  Graham?" 

"That's  quite  out  of  the  question,"  he  said,  puffing  furiously 
at  his  pipe.     "'  I  can't  leave  the  paper." 

"'  Oh,  men  always  say  that.  Haven't  you  let  your  pipe  go 
out?     I  don't  see  any  smoke." 

He  started  and  laughed.  "  Yes,  there's  no  more  tobacco  in 
it."     He  laid  it  down. 

"  No,  I  insist  on  your  going  on  or  else  I  shall  feel  uncomfort- 
able.    Where's  your  pouch?" 

He  felt  all  over  his  pockets.     "  It  must  be  on  the  table." 

She  rummaged  among  the  mass  of  papers.  "  Ha!  There  are 
your  scissors!  "  she  said  scornfully,  turning  them  up.  She  found 
the  pouch  in  time  and  handed  it  to  him.  "  I  ought  to  have  the 
management  of  this  office  for  a  day,"  she  remarked  again. 

"  Well,  fill  my  pipe  for  me,"  he  said,  with  an  audacious  inspi- 

2  G 


450  GRANDCHILDREN  OF  THE    GHETTO. 

ration.  He  felt  an  unreasoning  impulse  to  touch  her  hand,  to 
smooth  her  soft  cheek  with  his  fingers  and  press  her  eyelids 
down  over  her  dancing  eyes.  She  filled  the  pipe,  full  measure  and 
running  over ;  he  took  it  by  the  stem,  her  warm  gloved  fingers 
grazing  his  chilly  bare  hand  and  suffusing  him  with  a  delicious 
thrill. 

"Now  you  must  crown  your  work,''  he  said.  ''The  matches 
are  somewhere  about.'" 

She  hunted  again,  interpolating  exclamations  of  reproof  at  the 
risk  of  fire. 

"They're  safety  matches,  I  think,"  he  said.  They  proved  to 
be  wax  vestas.  She  gave  him  a  liquid  glance  of  mute  reproach 
that  filled  him  with  bliss  as  overbrimmingly  as  his  pipe  had 
been  filled  with  bird's  eye ;  then  she  struck  a  match,  protecting 
the  flame  scientifically  in  the  hollow  of  her  little  hand.  Raphael 
had  never  imagined  a  wax  vesta  could  be  struck  so  charmingly. 
She  tip-toed  to  reach  the  bowl  in  his  mouth,  but. he  bent  his  tall 
form  and  felt  her  breath  upon  his  face.  The  volumes  of  smoke 
curled  up  triumphantly,  and  Esther's  serious  countenance  relaxed 
in  a  smile  of  satisfaction.  She  resumed  the  conversation  where 
it  had  been  broken  off  by  the  idyllic  interlude  of  the  pipe. 

"  But  if  you  can't  leave  London,  there's  plenty  of  recreation  to 
be  had  in  town.  I'll  wager  you  haven't  yet  been  to  see  Ha)nlet 
in  lieu  of  the  night  you  disappointed  us." 

"  Disappointed  myself,  you  mean,"  he  said  with  a  retrospective 
consciousness  of  folly.  "  No,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  haven't  been 
out  at  all  lately.     Life  is  so  short." 

"  Then,  why  waste  it  ?  " 

"  Oh  come,  I  can't  admit  I  waste  it,"  he  said,  with  a  gentle 
smile  that  filled  her  with  a  penetrating  emotion.  "  You  mustn't 
take  such  material  views  of  life."  Almost  in  a  whisper  he 
quoted :  "  To  him  that  hath  the  kingdom  of  God  all  things  shall 
be  added,"  and  went  on :  "  Socialism  is  at  least  as  important  as 
Shakspeare." 

"  Socialism,"  she  repeated.     "  Are  you  a  Socialist,  then?  " 

"  Of  a  kind,"  he  answered.  "  Haven't  you  detected  the 
cloven  hoof  in  my  leaders?     I'm  not  violent,  you  know;  don't 


ESTHER  DEFIES    THE    UNIVERSE.  461 

be  alarmed.  But  I  have  been  doing  a  little  mild  propagandism 
lately  in  the  evenings ;  land  nationalization  and  a  few  other 
things  which  would  bring  the  world  more  into  harmony  with  the 
Law  of  Moses. "  * 

"What!  do  you  find  Sociahsm,  too,  in  orthodox  Judaism?" 

"  It  requires  no  seeking." 

"  Well,  you're  almost  as  bad  as  my  father,  who  found  every- 
thing in  the  Talmud.  At  this  rate  you  will  certainly  convert  me 
soon;  or  at  least  I  shall,  like  M.  Jourdain,  discover  Fve  been 
orthodox  all  my  life  without  knowing  it." 

"  I  hope  so,"  he  said  gravely.  "  But  have  you  Socialistic 
sympathies  ? " 

She  hesitated.  As  a  girl  she  had  felt  the  crude  Socialism 
which  is  the  unreasoned  instinct  of  ambitious  poverty,  the  indi- 
vidual revolt  mistaking  itself  for  hatred  of  the  general  injustice. 
When  the  higher  sphere  has  welcomed  the  Socialist,  he  sees  he 
was  but  the  exception  to  a  contented  class.  Esther  had  gone 
through  the  second  phase  and  was  in  the  throes  of  the  third,  to 
which  only  the  few  attain. 

"  I  used  to  be  a  red-hot  Socialist  once,"  she  said.  "  To-day  I 
doubt  whether  too  much  stress  is  not  laid  on  material  conditions. 
High  thinking  is  compatible  with  the  plainest  living.  '  The  soul 
is  its  own  place  and  can  make  a  heaven  of  hell,  a  hell  of  heaven.' 
Let  the  people  who  wish  to  build  themselves  lordly  treasure- 
houses  do  so,  if  they  can  alford  it,  but  let  us  not  degrade  our 
ideals  by  envying  them." 

The  conversation  had  drifted  into  seriousness.  Raphael's 
thoughts  reverted  to  their  normal  intellectual  cast,  but  he  still 
watched  with  pleasure  the  play  of  her  mobile  features  as  she 
expounded  her  opinions. 

"Ah,  yes,  that  is  a  nice  abstract  theory,"  he  said,  "  But  what 
if  the  mechanism  of  competitive  society  works  so  that  thousands 
don't  even  get  the  plainest  living?  You  should  just  see  the  sights 
I  have  seen,  then  you  would  understand  why  for  some  time  the 
improvement  of  the  material  condition  of  the  masses  must  be  the 
great  problem.  Of  course,  you  won't  suspect  me  of  underrating 
the  moral  and  religious  considerations," 


452  GRANDCHILDREN   OF   THE    GHETTO, 

Esther  smiled  almost  imperceptibly.  The  idea  of  Raphael, 
who  could  not  see  two  inches  before  his  nose,  telling  her  to  ex- 
amine the  spectacle  of  human  misery  would  have  been  distinctly 
amusing,  even  if  her  early  life  had  been  passed  among  the  same 
scenes  as  his.  It  seemed  a  part  of  the  irony  of  things  and  the 
paradox  of  fate  that  Raphael,  who  had  never  known  cold  or  hun- 
ger, should  be  so  keenly  sensitive  to  the  sufferings  of  others,  while 
she  who  had  known  both  had  come  to  regard  them  with  philo- 
sophical tolerance.  Perhaps  she  was  destined  ere  long  to  renew 
her  acquaintance  with  them.  Well,  that  would  test  her  theories 
at  any  rate. 

"Who  is  taking  material  views  of  life  now?"  she  asked. 

"  It  is  by  perfect  obedience  to  the  Mosaic  Law  that  the  kingdom 
of  God  is  to  be  brought  about  on  earth,"  he  answered.  "And 
in  spirit,  orthodox  Judaism  is  undoubtedly  akin  to  Socialism." 
His  enthusiasm  set  him  pacing  the  room  as  usual,  his  arms  work- 
ing like  the  sails  of  a  windmill. 

Esther  shook  her  head.  "Well,  give  me  Shakspeare,"  she 
said.  "  I  had  rather  see  Ha)nlet  than  a  world  of  perfect  prigs." 
She  laughed  at  the  oddity  of  her  own  comparison  and  added, 
still  smiling :  "  Once  upon  a  time  I  used  to  think  Shakspeare  a 
fraud.  But  that  was  merely  because  he  was  an  institution.  It  is 
a  real  treat  to  find  one  superstition  that  will  stand  analysis." 

"  Perhaps  you  will  find  the  Bible  turn  out  like  that,"  he  said 
hopefully. 

"  I  have  found  it.  Within  the  last  few  months  I  have  read  it 
right  through  again —  Old  and  New.  It  is  full  of  sublime  truths, 
noble  apophthegms,  endless  touches  of  nature,  and  great  poetry. 
Our  tiny  race  may  well  be  proud  of  having  given  humanity  its 
greatest  as  well  as  its  most  widely  circulated  books.  Why  canH 
Judaism  take  a  natural  view  of  things  and  an  honest  pride  in  its 
genuine  history,  instead  of  building  its  synagogues  on  shifting 
sand?  " 

"In  Germany,  later  in  America,  the  reconstruction  of  Judaism 
has  been  attempted  in  every  possible  way ;  inspiration  has  been 
sought  not  only  in  literature,  but  in  archaeology,  and  even  in 
anthropology ;  it  is  these  which  have  proved  the  shifting  sand. 


ESTHER  DEFIES    THE    UNIVERSE.  453 

You  see  your  scepticism  is  not  even  original."  He  smiled  a 
little,  serene  in  the  largeness  of  his  faith.  His  complacency 
grated  upon  her.  She  jumped  up.  "  We  always  seem  to  get 
into  religion,  you  and  I,"  she  said.  "I  wonder  why.  It  is  cer- 
tain we  shall  never  agree.  Mosaism  is  magnificent,  no  doubt, 
but  I  cannot  help  feeling  Mr.  Graham  is  right  when  he  points 
out  its  limitations.  Where  would  the  art  of  the  world  be  if  the 
second  Commandment  had  been  obeyed?  Is  there  any  such 
thing  as  an  absolute  system  of  morality?  How  is  it  the  Chinese 
have  got  on  all  these  years  without  religion?  Why  should  the 
Jews  claim  the  patent  in  those  moral  ideas  which  you  find  just 
as  well  in  all  the  great  writers  of  antiquity?  Why — ?"  she 
stopped  suddenly,  seeing  his  smile  had  broadened. 

"Which  of  all  these  objections  am  I  to  answer?  "he  asked 
merrily.     "Some  I'm  sure  you  don't  mean." 

"I  mean  all  those  you  can't  answer.  So  please  don't  try. 
After  all,  you're  not  a  professional  explainer  of  the  universe, 
that  I  should  heckle  you  thus." 

"  Oh,  but  I  set  up  to  be,"  he  protested. 

"No,  you  don't.  You  haven't  called  me  a  blasphemer  once. 
I'd  better  go  before  you  become  really  professional.  I  shall  be 
late  for  dinner." 

"What  nonsense!  It  is  only  four  o'clock,"  he  pleaded,  con- 
sulting an  old-fashioned  silver  watch. 

"As  late  as  that!"  said  Esther  in  horrified  tones.  "Good- 
bye! Take  care  to  go  through  my  'copy'  in  case  any  heresies 
have  filtered  into  it." 

"  Your  copy?     Did  you  give  it  me?"  he  inquired. 

"Of  course  I  did.  You  took  it  from  me.  Where  did  you  put 
it?  Oh,  I  hope  you  haven't  mixed  it  up  with  those  papers.  It'll 
be  a  terrible  task  to  find  it,"  cried  Esther  excitedly. 

"  I  wonder  if  I  could  have  put  it  in  the  pigeon-hole  for 
'  copy,'  "  he  said.     "  Yes!  what  luck!  " 

Esther  laughed  heartily.  "  You  seem  tremendously  surprised 
to  find  anything  in  its  right  place." 

The  moment  of  solemn  parting  had  come,  yet  she  found  her- 
self laughing   on.     Perhaps    she  was  glad    to  find  the  farewell 


454  GRANDCHILDREN   OF   THE    GHETTO. 

easier  than  she  had  foreseen.  It  had  certainly  been  made  easier 
by  the  theological  passage  of  arms,  which  brought  out  all  her 
latent  antagonism  to  the  prejudiced  young  pietist.  Her  hostility 
gave  rather  a  scornful  ring  to  the  laugh,  which  ended  with  a 
suspicion  of  hysteria. 

"  What  a  lot  of  stuff  youVe  written/'  he  said.  "  I  shall  never 
be  able  to  get  this  into  one  number." 

"  I  didn't  intend  you  should.  It's  to  be  used  in  instalments, 
if  it's  good  enough.  I  did  it  all  in  advance,  because  Pm  going 
away." 

"Going  away!"  he  cried,  arresting  himself  in  the  midst  of  an 
inhalation  of  smoke.     "'Where.'*" 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  said  wearily. 

He  looked  alarm  and  interrogation. 

"  I  am  going  to  leave  the  Goldsmiths,"  she  said.  "  I  haven't 
decided  exactly  what  to  do  next." 

"  I  hope  you  haven't  quarrelled  with  them." 

"  No,  no,  not  at  all.  In  fact  they  don't  even  know  I  am  going. 
I  only  tell  you  in  confidence.  Please  don't  say  anything  to  any- 
body. Good-bye.  I  may  not  come  across  you  again.  So  this 
may  be  a  last  good-bye."  She  extended  her  hand;  he  took  it 
mechanically. 

"  I  have  no  right  to  pry  into  your  confidence,"  he  said  anx- 
iously, "  but  you  make  me  very  uneasy."  He  did  not  let  go  her 
hand,  the  warm  touch  quickened  his  sympathy.  He  felt  he 
could  not  part  with  her  and  let  her  drift  into  Heaven  knew  what. 
"  Won't  you  tell  me  your  trouble  ?  "  he  went  on.  "  I  am  sure  it 
is  some  trouble.  Perhaps  I  can  help  you.  I  should  be  so  glad 
if  you  would  give  me  the  opportunity." 

The  tears  struggled  to  her  eyes,  but  she  did  not  speak.  They 
stood  in  silence,  with  their  hands  still  clasped,  feeling  very  near 
to  each  other,  and  yet  still  so  far  apart. 

"Cannot  you  trust  me?"  he  asked.  "I  know  you  are  un- 
happy, but  I  had  hoped  you  had  grown  cheerfuller  of  late.  You 
told  me  so  much  at  our  first  meeting,  surely  you  might  trust  me 
yet  a  little  farther." 

"  I  have  told  you  enough,"  she  said  at  last.     "  I  cannot  any 


ESTHER  DEFIES    THE    UNIVERSE.  455 

longer  eat  the  bread  of  charity ;  I  must  go  away  and  try  to  earn 
my  own  living." 

'"'  But  what  will  you  do  ?  " 

"  What  do  other  girls  do  ?  Teaching,  needlework,  anything. 
Remember,  Fm  an  experienced  teacher  and  a  graduate  to  boot." 
Her  pathetic  smile  lit  up  the  face  with  tremulous  tenderness. 

"  But  you  would  be  quite  alone  in  the  world,"  he  said,  solici- 
tude vibrating  in  every  syllable. 

"  I  am  used  to  being  quite  alone  in  the  world." 

The  phrase  threw  a  flash  of  light  along  the  backward  vista  of  her 
life  with  the  Goldsmiths,  and  filled  his  soul  with  pity  and  yearning. 

"  But  suppose  you  fail  ?  " 

"  If  I  fail  —  "  she  repeated,  and  rounded  off  the  sentence  with 
a  shrug.  It  was  the  apathetic,  indifferent  shrug  of  lAIoses  Ansell ; 
only  his  was  the  shrug  of  faith  in  Providence,  hers  of  despair. 
It  filled  Raphael's  heart  with  deadly  cold  and  his  soul  with  sin- 
ister forebodings.  The  pathos  of  her  position  seemed  to  him 
intolerable. 

"  No,  no,  this  must  not  be ! "  he  cried,  and  his  hand  gripped 
hers  fiercely,  as  if  he  were  afraid  of  her  being  dragged  away  by 
main  force.  He  was  terribly  agitated ;  his  whole  being  seemed 
to  be  undergoing  profound  and  novel  emotions.  Their  eyes 
met ;  in  one  and  the  same  instant  the  knowledge  broke  upon  her 
that  she  loved  him,  and  that  if  she  chose  to  play  the  woman  he 
was  hers,  and  life  a  Paradisian  dream.  The  sweetness  of  the 
thought  intoxicated  her,  thrilled  her  veins  with  fire.  But  the 
next  instant  she  was  chilled  as  by  a  gray  cold  fog.  The  realities 
of  things  came  back,  a  whirl  of  self-contemptuous  thoughts  blent 
with  a  hopeless  sense  of  the  harshness  of  life.  Who  was  she  to 
aspire  to  such  a  match?  Had  her  earlier  day-dream  left  her  no 
wiser  than  that?  The  Sch)ion'er''s  daughter  setting  her  cap  at 
the  wealthy  Oxford  man,  forsooth!  What  would  people  say? 
And  what  would  they  say  if  they  knew  how  she  had  sought  him 
out  in  his  busy  seclusion  to  pitch  a  tale  of  woe  and  move  him  by 
his  tenderness  of  heart  to  a  pity  he  mistook  momentarily  for 
love?  The  image  of  Levi  came  back  suddenly;  she  quivered, 
reading  herself  through  his  eyes.     And  yet  would  not  his  crude 


456  GRANDCHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

view  be  right  ?  Suppress  the  consciousness  as  she  would  in  her 
maiden  breast,  had  she  not  been  urged  hither  by  an  irresistible 
impulse?  Knowing  what  she  felt  now,  she  could  not  realize  she 
had  been  ignorant  of  it  when  she  set  out.  She  was  a  deceitful, 
scheming  little  thing.  Angry  with  herself,  she  averted  her  gaze 
from  the  eyes  that  hungered  for  her,  though  they  were  yet  unlit 
by  self-consciousness ;  she  loosed  her  hand  from  his,  and  as  if 
the  cessation  of  the  contact  restored  her  self-respect,  some  of 
her  anger  passed  unreasonably  towards  him. 

"  What  right  have  you  to  say  it  must  not  be  ?  '•  she  inquired 
haughtily.  "  Do  you  think  I  can't  take  care  of  myself,  that  I 
need  any  one  to  protect  me  or  to  help  me?  '^ 

"No  —  I— I — only  mean  —  "  he  stammered  in  infinite  dis- 
tress, feeling  himself  somehow  a  blundering  bi*ute. 

"  Remember  I  am  not  like  the  girls  you  are  used  to  meet.  \ 
have  known  the  worst  that  life  can  offer.  I  can  stand  alone, 
yes,  and  face  the  whole  world.  Perhaps  you  don't  know  that  I 
wrote  Mordecai  Josephs,  the  book  you  burlesqued  so  mercilessly! " 

''You  wrote  it!" 

"Yes,  I.  I  am  Edward  Armitage.  Did  those  initials  never 
strike  you?  I  wrote  it  and  I  glory  in  it.  Though  all  Jewry  cry 
out  '  The  picture  is  false,'  I  say  it  is  true.  So  now  you  know  the 
truth.  Proclaim  it  to  all  Hyde  Park  and  Maida  Vale,  tell  it  to 
ail  your  narrow-minded  friends  and  acquaintances,  and  let  them 
turn  and  rend  me.  I  can  live  without  them  or  their  praise. 
Too  long  they  have  cramped  my  soul.  Now  at  last  I  am  going 
to  cut  myself  free.  From  them  and  from  you  and  all  your  petty 
prejudices  and  interests.     Good-bye,  for  ever." 

She  went  out  abruptly,  leaving  the  room  dark  and  Raphael 
shaken  and  dumbfounded  ;  she  went  down  the  stairs  and  into 
the  keen  bright  air,  with  a  fierce  exultation  at  her  heart,  an 
intoxicating  sense  of  freedom  and  defiance.  It  was  over.  She 
had  vindicated  herself  to  herself  and  to  the  imaginary  critics. 
The  last  link  that  bound  her  to  Jewry  was  snapped  ;  it  was 
impossible  it  could  ever  be  reforged.  Raphael  knew  her  in  her 
true  colors  at  last.  She  seemed  to  herself  a  Spinoza  the  race 
had  cast  out. 


GOING  HOME.  457 

The  editor  of  The  Flag  of  Judah  stood  for  some  minutes  as  if 
petrified ;  then  he  turned  suddenly  to  tlie  litter  on  his  table  and 
rummaged  among  it  feverishly.  At  last,  as  with  a  happy  recol- 
lection, he  opened  a  drawer.  What  he  SQught  was  there.  He 
started  reading  Mordecai  Josephs,  forgetting  to  close  the  drawer. 
Passage  after  passage  suffused  his  eyes  with  tears ;  a  soft  magic 
hovered  about  the  nervous  sentences  ;  he  read  her  eager  little 
soul  in  every  line.  Now  he  understood.  How^  blind  he  had 
been!  How  could  he  have  missed  seeing?  Esther  stared  at 
him  from  every  page.  She  was  the  heroine  of  her  own  book; 
yes,  and  the  hero,  too,  for  he  was  but  another  side  of  herself 
translated  into  the  masculine.  The  whole  book  was  Esther,  the 
whole  Esther  and  nothing  but  Esther,  for  even  the  satirical 
descriptions  were  but  the  revolt  of  Esthers  soul  against  mean 
and  evil  things.  He  turned  to  the  great  love-scene  of  the 
book,  and  read  on  and  on,  fascinated,  without  getting  further 
than  the  chapter. 

CHAPTER   XL 

GOING   HOME. 

No  need  to  delay  longer ;  every  need  for  instant  flight.  Esther 
had  found  courage  to  confess  her  crime  against  the  community 
to  Raphael ;  there  was  no  seething  of  the  blood  to  nerve  her  to 
face  Mrs.  Henry  Goldsmith.  She  retired  to  her  room  soon  after 
dinner  on  the  plea  (w'hich  was  not  a  pretext)  of  a  headache. 
Then  she  wrote : 

"Dear  Mrs.  Goldsmith: 

"When  you  read  this,  I  shall  have  left  your  house,  never  to 
return.  It  would  be  idle  to  attempt  to  explain  my  reasons.  I 
could  not  hope  to  make  you  see  through  my  eyes.  Suffice  it 
to  say  that  I  cannot  any  longer  endure  a  life  of  dependence, 
and  that  I  feel  I  have  abused  your  favor  by  writing  that  Jewish 
novel  of  which  you  disapprove  so  vehemently.     I  never  intended 


458  GRANDCHILDREN   OF   THE    GHETTO. 

to  keep  the  secret  from  you,  after  publication.  I  thought  the 
book  would  succeed  and  you  would  be  pleased ;  at  the  same  time 
I  dimly  felt  that  you  might  object  to  certain  things  and  ask  to 
have  them  altered,  and  I  have  always  wanted  to  write  my  own. 
ideas,  and  not  other  people's.  With  my  temperament,  I  see  now 
that  it  was  a  mistake  to  fetter  myself  by  obligations  to  anybody, 
but  the  mistake  was  made  in  my  girlhood  when  I  knew  little  of 
the  world  and  perhaps  less  of  myself.  Nevertheless,  I  wish  you 
to  believe,  dear  Mrs.  Goldsmith,  that  all  the  blame  for  the  un- 
happy situation  which  has  arisen  I  put  upon  my  own  shoulders, 
and  that  I  have  nothing  for  you  but  the  greatest  affection 
and  gratitude  for  all  the  kindnesses  I  have  received  at  your 
hands.  I  beg  you  not  to  think  that  I  make  the  slightest  reproach 
against  you ;  on  the  contrary,  I  shall  always  henceforth  reproach 
myself  with  the  thought  that  I  have  made  you  so  poor  a  return 
for  your  generosity  and  incessant  though tfulness.  But  the  sphere 
in  which  you  move  is  too  high  for  me  ;  I  cannot  assimilate  with 
it  and  I  return,  not  without  gladness,  to  the  humble  sphere  whence 
you  took  me.     With  kindest  regards  and  best  wishes, 

I  am. 

Yours  ever  gratefully, 

Esther  Ansell." 


There  were  tears  in  Esther's  eyes  when  she  finished,  and 
she  was  penetrated  with  admiration  of  her  own  generosity  in 
so  freely  admitting  Mrs.  Goldsmith's  and  in  allowing  that 
her  patron  got  nothing  out  of  the  bargain.  She  was  doubtful 
whether  the  sentence  about  the  high  sphere  was  satirical  or 
serious.  People  do  not  know  what  they  mean  almost  as  often 
as  they  do  not  say  it. 

Esther  put  the  letter  into  an  envelope  and  placed  it  on  the  open 
writing-desk  she  kept  on  her  dressing-table.  She  then  packed  a 
few  toilette  essentials  in  a  little  bag,  together  with  some  Ameri- 
can photographs  of  her  brother  and  sisters  in  various  stages  of 
adolescence.  She  was  determined  to  go  back  empty-handed  as 
she  came,  and  was  reluctant  to  carry  off  the  few  sovereigns  of 


GOING  HOME.  459 

pocket-money  in  her  purse,  and  hunted  up  a  little  gold  locket 
she  had  received,  while  yet  a  teacher,  in  celebration  of  the  mar- 
riage of  a  communal  magnate's  daughter.  Thrown  aside  seven 
years  ago,  it  now  bade  fair  to  be  the  corner-stone  of  the  temple ; 
she  had  meditated  pledging  it  and  living  on  the  proceeds  till  she 
found  work,  but  when  she  realized  its  puny  pretensions  to  cozen 
pawnbrokers,  it  flashed  upon  her  that  she  could  always  repay 
Mrs.  Goldsmith  the  few  pounds  she  was  taking  away.  In  a 
drawer  there  was  a  heap  of  manuscript  carefully  locked  away ; 
she  took  it  and  looked  through  it  hurriedly,  contemptuously. 
Some  of  it  was  music,  some  poetry,  the  bulk  prose.  At  last  she 
threw  it  suddenly  on  the  bright  fire  which  good  Mary  O'Reilly 
had  providentially  provided  in  her  room  ;  then,  as  it  flared  up, 
stricken  with  remorse,  she  tried  to  pluck  the  sheets  from  the 
flames ;  only  by  scorching  her  fingers  and  raising  blisters  did 
she  succeed,  and  then,  with  scornful  resignation,  she  instantly 
threw  them  back  again,  warming  her  feverish  hands  merrily  at 
the  bonfire.  Rapidly  looking  through  all  her  drawers,  lest  per- 
chance in  some  stray  manuscript  she  should  leave  her  soul  naked 
behind  her,  she  came  upon  a  forgotten  faded  rose.  The  faint 
fragrance  was  charged  with  strange  memories  of  Sidney.  The 
handsome  young  artist  had  given  it  her  in  the  earlier  days  of 
their  acquaintanceship.  To  Esther  to-night  it  seemed  to  belong 
to  a  period  infinitely  more  remote  than  her  childhood.  When 
the  shrivelled  rose  had  been  further  crumpled  into  a  little  ball 
and  then  picked  to  bits,  it  only  remained  to  inquire  where  to  go ; 
what  to  do  she  could  settle  when  there.  She  tried  to  collect  her 
thoughts.  Alas!  it  was  not  so  easy  as  collecting  her  luggage. 
For  a  lono;  time  she  crouched  on  the  fender  and  looked  into  the 
fire,  seeing  in  it  only  fragmentary  pictures  of  the  last  seven  years 
• —  bits  of  scenery,  great  Cathedral  interiors  arousing  mysterious 
yearnings,  petty  incidents  of  travel,  moments  with  Sidney,  draw- 
ing-room episodes,  strange  passionate  scenes  with  herself  as 
single  performer,  long  silent  watches  of  study  and  aspiration, 
like  the  souls  of  the  burned  manuscripts  made  visible.  Even 
that  very  afternoon's  scene  with  Raphael  was  part  of  the  "'  old 
unhappy  far-off  things  "  that  could  only  live  henceforwards  in 


460  GRANDCHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

fantastic  arcades  of  glowing  coal,  out  of  all  relation  to  future  real- 
ities. Her  new-born  love  for  Raphael  appeared  as  ancient  and 
as  arid  as  the  girlish  ambitions  that  had  seemed  on  the  point  of 
blossoming  when  she  was  transplanted  from  the  Ghetto.  That, 
too,  was  in  the  flames,  and  should  remain  there. 

At  last  she  started  up  with  a  confused  sense  of  wasted  time 
and  began  to  undress  mechanically,  trying  to  concentrate  her 
thoughts  the  while  on  the  problem  that  faced  her.  But  they 
wandered  back  to  her  first  night  in  the  fine  house,  when  a  sepa- 
rate bedroom  was  a  new  experience  and  she  was  afraid  to  sleep 
alone,  though  turned  fifteen.  But  she  was  more  afraid  of  ap- 
pearing a  great  baby,  and  so  no  one  in  the  world  ever  knew 
what  the  imaginative  little  creature  had  lived  down. 

In  the  middle  of  brushing  her  hair  she  ran  to  the  door  and 
locked  it,  from  a  sudden  dread  that  she  might  oversleep  herself 
and  some  one  would  come  in  and  see  the  letter  on  the  writing- 
desk.  She  had  not  solved  the  problem  even  by  the  time  she 
got  into  bed ;  the  fire  opposite  the  foot  was  burning  down, 
but  there  was  a  red  glow  penetrating  the  dimness.  She  had 
forgotten  to  draw  the  blind,  and  she  saw  the  clear  stars  shining 
peacefully  in  the  sky.  She  looked  and  looked  at  them  and  they 
led  her  thoughts  away  from  the  problem  once  more.  She 
seemed  to  be  lying  in  Victoria  Park,  looking  up  with  innocent 
mystic  rapture  and  restfulness  at  the  brooding  blue  sky.  The 
blood-and-thunder  boys'  story  she  had  borrowed  from  Solomon 
had  fallen  from  her  hand  and  lay  unheeded  on  the  grass.  Solo- 
mon was  tossing  a  ball  to  Rachel,  which  he  had  acquired  by  a 
colossal  accumulation  of  buttons,  and  Isaac  and  Sarah  were 
rolling  and  wrangling  on  the  grass.  Oh,  why  had  she  deserted 
them?  What  were  they  doing  now,  without  her  mother-care, 
out  and  away  beyond  the  great  seas?  For  weeks  together,  the 
thought  of  them  had  not  once  crossed  her  mind  ;  to-night  she 
stretched  her  arms  involuntarily  towards  her  loved  ones,  not 
towards  the  shadowy  figures  of  reality,  scarcely  less  phantasmal 
than  the  dead  Benjamin,  but  towards  the  childish  figures  of  the 
past.  What  happy  times  they  had  had  together  in  the  dear  old 
garret ! 


GOING  HOME.  461 

In  her  strange  half-waking  hallucination,  her  outstretched 
arms  were  clasped  round  little  Sarah.  She  was  putting  her  to 
bed  and  the  tiny  thing  was  repeating  after  her,  in  broken 
Hebrew,  the  children's  night-prayer :  "  Suffer  me  to  lie  down 
in  peace,  and  let  me  rise  up  in  peace.  Hear  O  Israel,  the  Lord 
our  God,  the  Lord  is  one,''  with  its  unauthorized  appendix  in 
baby  English  :  ''  Dod  teep  me,  and  mate  me  a  dood  dirl,  orways." 

She  woke  to  full  consciousness  with  a  start ;  her  arms  chilled, 
her  face  wet.     But  the  problem  was  solved. 

She  would  go  back  to  them,  back  to  her  true  home,  where 
loving  faces  waited  to  welcome  her,  where  hearts  were  open  and 
life  was  simple  and  the  weary  brain  could  find  rest  from  the 
stress  and  struggle  of  obstinate  questionings  of  destiny.  Life 
was  so  simple  at  bottom ;  it  was  she  that  was  so  perversely  com- 
plex. She  would  go  back  to  her  father  whose  naive  devout 
face  swam  glorified  upon  a  sea  of  tears  ;  yea,  and  back  to  her 
father's  primitive  faith  like  a  tired  lost  child  that  spies  its  home 
at  last.  The  quaint,  monotonous  cadence  of  her  father's  prayers 
rang  pathetically  in  her  ears ;  and  a  great  light,  the  light  that 
Raphael  had  shown  her,  seemed  to  blend  mystically  with  the 
once  meaningless  sounds.  Yea,  all  things  were  from  Him  who 
created  light  and  darkness,  good  and  evil ;  she  felt  her  cares 
falling  from  her,  her  soul  absorbing  itself  in  the  sense  of  a 
Divine  Love,  awful,  profound,  immeasurable,  underlying  and  tran- 
scending all  things,  incomprehensibly  satisfying  the  soul  and  jus- 
tifying and  explaining  the  universe.  The  infinite  fret  and  fume 
of  life  seemed  like  the  petulance  of  an  infant  in  the  presence  of 
this  restful  tenderness  diifused  through  the  great  spaces.  How 
holy  the  stars  seemed  up  there  in  the  quiet  sky,  like  so  many 
Sabbath  lights  shedding  visible  consecration  and  blessing! 

Yes,  she  would  go  back  to  her  loved  ones,  back  from  this 
dainty  room,  with  its  white  laces  and  perfumed  draperies,  back 
if  need  be  to  a  Ghetto  garret.  And  in  the  ecstasy  of  her  aban- 
donment of  all  worldly  things,  a  great  peace  fell  upon  her  soul. 

In  the  morning  the  nostalgia  of  the  Ghetto  was  still  upon  her, 
blent  with  a  passion  of  martyrdom  that  made  her  yearn  for  a 
lower  social  depth  than  was  really  necessary.      But  the  more 


462  GRANDCHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

human  aspects  of  the  situation  were  paramount  in  the  gray  chill- 
ness  of  a  bleak  May  dawn.  Her  resolution  to  cross  the  Atlantic 
forthwith  seemed  a  little  hasty,  and  though  she  did  not  flinch 
from  it,  she  was  not  sorry  to  remember  that  she  had  not  money 
enough  for  the  journey.  She  must  perforce  stay  in  London  till 
she  had  earned  it ;  meantime  she  would  go  back  to  the  districts 
and  the  people  she  knew  so  well,  and  accustom  herself  again  to 
the  old  ways,  the  old  simplicities  of  existence. 

She  dressed  herself  in  her  plainest  apparel,  though  she  could 
not  help  her  spring  bonnet  being  pretty.  She  hesitated  between 
a  hat  and  a  bonnet,  but  decided  that  her  solitary  position  de- 
manded as  womanly  an  appearance  as  possible.  Do  what  she 
would,  she  could  not  prevent  herself  looking  exquisitely  refined, 
and  the  excitement  of  adventure  had  lent  that  touch  of  color  to 
her  face  which  made  it  fascinating.  About  seven  o'clock  she 
left  her  room  noiselessly  and  descended  the  stairs  cautiously, 
holding  her  little  black  bag  in  her  hand. 

"  Och,  be  the  holy  mother.  Miss  Esther,  phwat  a  turn  you  gave 
me,"  said  Mary  O'Reilly,  emerging  unexpectedly  from  the  dining- 
room  and  meeting  her  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs.  "Phwat's  the 
matther  ? " 

"  Pm  going  out,  Mary,"  she  said,  her  heart  beating  violently. 

"  Sure  an'  it's  rale  purty  ye  look.  Miss  Esther ;  but  it's  divil  a 
bit  the  marnin'  for  a  walk,  it  looks  a  raw  kind  of  a  day,  as  if  the 
weather  was  sorry  for  bein*  so  bright  yisterday." 

"  Oh,  but  I  must  go,  Mary." 

"Ah,  the  saints  bliss  your  kind  heart!"  said  Mary,  catching 
sight  of  the  bag.  '•  Sure,  then,  it's  a  charity  irrand  you're  bent 
on.  I  mind  me  how  my  blissed  old  masther,  Mr.  Goldsmith's 
father,  Olov  Has/iolo;/i,  who's  gone  to  glory,  used  to  walk  to  Shool 
in  all  winds  and  weathers ;  sometimes  it  was  five  o'clock  of  a 
winter's  marnin'  and  I  used  to  get  up  and  make  him  an  iligant 
cup  of  coffee  before  he  wint  to  Selkhoth ;  he  niver  would  take 
milk  and  sugar  in  it,  becaz  that  would  be  atin'  belike,  poor  dear 
old  ginthleman.     Ah  the  Holy  Vargin  be  kind  to  him!" 

"  And  may  she  be  kind  to  you,  Mary,"  said  Esther.  And  she 
impulsively  pressed  her  lips  to  the  old  woman's  seamed  and 


GOING  HOME.  463 

wrinkled  cheek,  to  the  astonishment  of  the  guardian  of  Judaism. 
Virtue  was  its  own  reward,  for  Esther  profited  by  the  moment  of 
the  loquacious  creature's  breathlessness  to  escape.  She  opened 
the  hall  door  and  passed  into  the  silent  streets,  whose  cold  pave- 
ments seemed  to  reflect  the  bleak  stony  tints  of  the  sky. 

For  the  first  few  minutes  she  walked  hastily,  almost  at  a  run. 
Then  her  pace  slackened ;  she  told  herself  there  was  no  hurry, 
and  she  shook  her  head  when  a  cabman  interrogated  her.  The 
omnibuses  were  not  running  yet.  When  they  commenced,  she 
would  take  one  to  Whitechapel.  The  signs  of  awakening  labor 
stirred  her  with  new  emotions ;  the  early  milkman  with  his  cans, 
casual  artisans  with  their  tools,  a  grimy  sweep,  a  work-girl  with 
a  paper  lunch-package,  an  apprentice  whistling.  Great  sleeping 
houses  lined  her  path  like  gorged  monsters  drowsing  voluptu- 
ously. The  world  she  was  leaving  behind  her  grew  alien  and 
repulsive,  her  heart  went  out  to  the  patient  world  of  toil.  What 
had  she  been  doing  all  these  years,  amid  her  books  and  her  music 
and  her  rose-leaves,  aloof  from  realities  ? 

The  first  'bus  overtook  her  half-way  and  bore  her  back  to  the 
Ghetto. 

The  Ghetto  was  all  astir,  for  it  was  half-past  eight  of  a  work- 
a-day  morning.  But  Esther  had  not  walked  a  hundred  yards 
before  her  breast  was  heavy  with  inauspicious  emotions.  The 
well-known  street  she  had  entered  was  strangely  broadened.  In- 
stead of  the  dirty  picturesque  houses  rose  an  appalling  series  of 
artisans'  dwellings,  monotonous  brick  barracks,  whose  dead,  dull 
prose  weighed  upon  the  spirits.  But,  as  in  revenge,  other  streets, 
unaltered,  seemed  incredibly  narrow.  Was  it  possible  it  could 
have  taken  even  her  childish  feet  six  strides  to  cross  them,  as  she 
plainly  remembered?  And  they  seemed  so  unspeakably  sordid 
and  squalid.  Could  she  ever  really  have  walked  them  with  light 
heart,  unconscious  of  the  ugliness?  Did  the  gray  atmosphere 
that  overhung  them  ever  lift,  or  was  it  their  natural  and  appro- 
priate mantle?  Surely  the  sun  could  never  shine  upon  these 
slimy  pavements,  kissing  them  to  warmth  and  life. 

Great  magic  shops  where  all  things  were  to  be  had ;  pepper- 


464  GRANDCHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

mints  and  cotton,  china-faced  dolls  and  lemons,  had  dwindled 
into  the  front  windows  of  tiny  private  dwelling-houses ;  the 
black-wigged  crones,  the  greasy  shambling  men,  were  uglier  and 
ofreasier  than  she  had  ever  conceived  them.  Thev  seemed  cari- 
catures  of  humanity ;  scarecrows  in  battered  hats  or  draggled 
skirts.  But  gradually,  as  the  scene  grew  upon  her,  she  perceived 
that  in  spite  of  the  "  model  dwellings  '^  builder,  it  was  essentially 
unchanged.  No  vestige  of  improvement  had  come  over  Went- 
worth  Street ;  the  narrow  noisy  market  street,  where  serried  bar- 
rows flanked  the  reeking  roadway  exactly  as  of  old,  and  wdiere 
Esther  trod  on  mud  and  refuse  and  babies.  Babies!  They  were 
everywhere ;  at  the  breasts  of  unwashed  women,  on  the  knees  of 
grandfathers  smoking  pipes,  playing  under  the  barrows,  spraw'l- 
ing  in  the  gutters  and  the  alleys.  All  the  babies''  faces  were 
sickly  and  dirty  with  pathetic,  childish  prettinesses  asserting 
themselves  against  the  neglect  and  the  sallowness.  One  female 
mite  in  a  dingy  tattered  frock  sat  in  an  orange-box,  surveying 
the  bustling  scene  with  a  preternaturally  grave  expression,  and 
realizing  literally  Esther's  early  conception  of  the  theatre.  There 
was  a  sense  of  blankness  in  the  wanderer's  heart,  of  unfamiliarity 
in  the  midst  of  familiarity.  What  had  she  in  common  with 
all  this  mean  wretchedness,  with  this  semi-barbarous  breed  of 
beings?  The  more  she  looked,  the  more  her  heart  sank.  There 
was  no  flaunting  vice,  no  rowdiness,  no  drunkenness,  only  the 
squalor  of  an  oriental  city  without  its  quaintness  and  color.  She 
studied  the  posters  and  the  shop-windows,  and  caught  old 
snatches  of  gossip  from  the  groups  in  the  butchers'  shops — all 
seemed  as  of  yore.  And  yet  here  and  there  the  hand  of  Time 
had  traced  new  inscriptions.  For  Baruch  Emanuel  the  hand  of 
Time  had  written  a  new  placard.  It  was  a  mixture  of  German,  bad 
English  and  Cockneyese,  phonetically  spelt  in  Hebrew  letters : 

Mens  Solen  Und  Eelen,         .         .         .     2/6 
Lydies  Deeto,        .         .         .         .         .1/6 
Kindersche  Deeto,         .         .         .         .1/6 
Hier  wird  gemacht 
Aller  Hant  Sleepers 

Fur  Trebbelers 
Zu  De  Billio^sten  Preissen. 


GOING  HOME.  465 

Baruch  Emanuel  had  prospered  since  the  days  when  he  wanted 
"lasters  and  riveters^'  without  being  able  to  afford  them.  He 
no  longer  gratuitously  advertised  Mordecai  Schwartz  in  envious 
emulation,  for  he  had  several  establishments  and  owned  five  two- 
story  houses,  and  was  treasurer  of  his  little  synagogue,  and  spoke 
of  Socialists  as  an  inferior  variety  of  Atheists.  Not  that  all  this 
bourgeoning  was  to  be  counted  to  leather,  for  Baruch  had  devel- 
oped enterprises  in  all  directions,  having  all  the  versatility  of 
Moses  Ansell  without  his  catholic  capacity  for  failure. 

The  hand  of  Time  had  also  constructed  a  "  working-men's 
Metropole"  almost  opposite  Baruch  EmanuePs  shop,  and  papered 
its  outside  walls  with  moral  pictorial  posters,  headed,  "Where 
have  you  been  to,  Thomas  Brown?"  "-Mike  and  his  moke,''  and 
so  on.  Here,  single-bedded  cabins  could  be  had  as  low  as  four- 
pence  a  night.  From  the  journals  in  a  tobacconist's  window 
Esther  gathered  that  the  reading-public  had  increased,  for  there 
were  importations  from  New  York,  both  in  jargon  and  in  pure 
Hebrew,  and  from  a  large  poster  in  Yiddish  and  English,  an- 
nouncing a  public  meeting,  she  learned  of  the  existence  of  an  off- 
shoot of  the  Holy  Land  League  —  "The  Flowers  of  Zion  Society 
—  established  by  East-End  youths  for  the  study  of  Hebrew  and 
the  propagation  of  the  Jewish  National  Idea."  Side  by  side  with 
this,  as  if  in  ironic  illustration  of  the  other  side  of  the  life  of  the 
Ghetto,  was  a  seeming  royal  proclamation  headed  V.  R.,  inform- 
ing the  public  that  by  order  of  the  Secretary  of  State  for  War 
a  sale  of  wrought-  and  cast-iron,  zinc,  canvaS;  tools  and  leather 
would  take  place  at  the  Royal  Arsenal,  Woolwich. 

As  she  wandered  on,  the  great  school-bell  began  to  ring ; 
involuntarily,  she  quickened  her  step  and  joined  the  chattering 
children's  procession.  She  could  have  fancied  the  last  ten 
years  a  dream.  Were  they,  indeed,  other  children,  or  were  they 
not  the  same  that  jostled  her  when  she  picked  her  way  through 
this  very  slush  in  her  clumsy  masculine  boots?  Surely  those 
little  girls  in  lilac  print  frocks  were  her  classmates!  It  was  hard 
to  realize  that  Time's  wheel  had  been  whirling  on,  fashioning 
her  to  a  woman  ;  that,  while  she  had  been  living  and  learning 
and  seeing  the  manners  of  men  and  cities,  the  Ghetto,  unaffected 

2H 


466  GRANDCHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

by  her  experiences,  had  gone  on  in  the  same  narrow  rut.  A 
new  generation  of  children  had  arisen  to  suffer  and  sport  in 
room  of  the  old,  and  that  was  all.  The  thought  overwdielmed 
her,  gave  her  a  new  and  poignant  sense  of  brute,  blind  forces  ; 
she  seemed  to  catch  in  this  familiar  scene  of  childhood  the 
secret  of  the  gray  atmosphere  of  her  spirit.  It  was  here  she 
had,  all  insensibly,  absorbed  those  heavy  vapors  that  formed 
the  background  of  her  being,  a  permanent  sombre  canvas  be- 
hind all  the  iridescent  colors  of  joyous  emotion.  What  had 
she  in  common  with  all  this  mean  wretchedness  ?  Why,  every- 
thing. This  it  was  with  wiiich  her  soul  had  intangible  affinities, 
not  the  glory  of  sun  and  sea  and  forest,  '•  the  palms  and  temples 
of  the  South.'' 

The  heavy  vibrations  of  the  bell  ceased ;  the  street  cleared ; 
Esther  turned  back  and  walked  instinctively  homewards  —  to 
Royal  Street.  Her  soul  was  full  of  the  sense  of  the  futility 
of  life ;  yet  the  sight  of  the  great  shabby  house  could  still  give 
her  a  chill.  Outside  the  door  a  wizened  old  woman  with  a 
chronic  sniff  had  established  a  stall  for  wizened  old  apples,  but 
Esther  passed  her  by  heedless  of  her  stare,  and  ascended  the 
two  miry  steps  that  led  to  the  mud-carpeted  passage. 

The  apple-woman  took  her  for  a  philanthropist  paying  a  sur- 
prise visit  to  one  of  the  families  of  the  house,  and  resented  her 
as  a  spv.  She  was  discussing  the  meanness  of  the  thing  with 
the  pickled-herring  dealer  next  door,  while  Esther  was  mount- 
ins:  the  dark  stairs  w-ith  the  confidence  of  old  habit.  She  was 
making  automatically  for  the  garret,  like  a  somnambulist,  with 
no  definite  object — morbidly  drawn  towards  the  old  home. 
The  unchanging  musty  smells  that  clung  to  the  staircase  flew 
to  greet  her  nostrils,  and  at  once  a  host  of  sleeping  memories 
started  to  life,  besieging  her  and  pressing  upon  her  on  every 
side.  After  a  tumultuous  intolerable  moment  a  childish  figure 
seemed  to  break  from  the  gloom  ahead  —  the  figure  of  a  little 
girl  with  a  grave  face  and  candid  eyes,  a  dutiful,  obedient 
shabby  little  girl,  so  anxious  to  please  her  schoolmistress,  so 
full  of  craving  to  learn  and  to  be  good,  and  to  be  loved  by  God, 
so  audaciously  ambitious  of  becoming  a  teacher,  and  so  confi- 


GOING  HOME.  467 

dent  of  being  a  good  Jewess  always.  Satchel  in  hand,  the  little 
girl  sped  up  the  stairs  swiftly,  despite  her  cumbrous,  slatternly 
boots,  and  Esther,  holding  her  bag,  followed  her  more  slowly, 
as  if  she  feared  to  contaminate  her  by  the  touch  of  one  so 
weary-worldly-wise,  so  full  of  revolt  and  despair. 

All  at  once  Esther  sidled  timidly  towards  the  balustrade,  with 
an  instinctive  movement,  holding  her  bag  out  protectingly. 
The  figure  vanished,  and  Esther  awoke  to  the  knowledge  that 
"Bobby"  was  not  at  his  post.  Then  with  a  flash  came  the 
recollection  of  Bobby's  mistress  —  the  pale,  unfortunate  young 
seamstress  she  had  so  unconscionably  neglected.  She  won- 
dered if  she  were  alive  or  dead.  A  waft  of  sickly  odors  surged 
from  below ;  Esther  felt  a  deadly  faintness  coming  over  her ; 
she  had  walked  far,  and  nothing  had  yet  passed  her  lips  since 
yesterday's  dinner,  and  at  this  moment,  too,  an  overwhelming 
terrifying  feeling  of  loneliness  pressed  like  an  icy  hand  upon 
her  heart.  She  felt  that  in  another  instant  she  must  swoon, 
there,  upon  the  foul  landing.  She  sank  against  the  door,  beat- 
ing passionately  at  the  panels.  It  was  opened  from  within  ;  she 
had  just  strength  enough  to  clutch  the  door-post  so  as  not  to 
fall.  A  thin,  careworn  woman  swam  uncertainly  before  her 
eyes.  Esther  could  not  recognize  her,  but  the  plain  iron  bed, 
almost  corresponding  in  area  with  that  of  the  room,  was  as  of 
old,  and  so  was  the  little  round  table  with  a  tea-pot  and  a  cup 
and  saucer,  and  half  a  loaf  standing  out  amid  a  litter  of  sewing, 
as  if  the  owner  had  been  interrupted  in  the  middle  of  breakfast. 
Stay  —  what  was  that  journal  resting  against  the  half-loaf  as  for 
perusal  during  the  meal  ?  Was  it  not  the  London  Journal  f  Again 
she  looked,  but  with  more  confidence,  at  the  woman's  face.  A 
wave  of  curiosity,  of  astonishment  at  the  stylishly  dressed  visitor, 
passed  over  it,  but  in  the  curves  of  the  mouth,  in  the  movement 
of  the  eyebrows,  Esther  renewed  indescribably  subtle  memories. 

"Debby!"  she  cried  hysterically.  A  great  flood  of  joy 
swamped  her  soul.  She  was  not  alone  in  the  world,  after  all! 
Dutch  Debby  uttered  a  little  startled  scream.  "  I've  come  back, 
Debby,  I've  come  back,"  and  the  next  moment  the  brilliant  girl- 
graduate  fell  fainting  into  the  seamstress's  arms. 


468  GRANDCHILDREN  OF  THE    GHETTO, 

CHAPTER   XII. 

A   SHEAF   OF   SEQUELS. 

Within  half  an  hour  Esther  was  smiHng  pallidly  and  drinking 
tea  out  of  Debby^s  own  cup,  to  Debby's  unHmited  satisfaction. 
Debby  had  no  spare  cup,  but  she  had  a  spare  chair  without  a 
back,  and  Esther  was  of  course  seated  on  the  otlier.  Her  bon- 
net and  cloak  were  on  the  bed. 

"  And  where  is  Bobby  ? ''  inquired  the  young  lady  visitor. 

Debby's  joyous  face  clouded. 

"  Bobby  is  dead,"  she  said  softly.  "  He  died  four  years  ago, 
come  next  Sheviios .'''' 

"  I'm  so  sorry,"  said  Esther,  pausing  in  her  tea-drinking  with 
a  pang  of  genuine  emotion.  "  At  first  I  was  afraid  of  him,  but 
that  was  before  I  knew  him." 

"  There  never  beat  a  kinder  heart  on  God's  earth,"  said 
Debby,  emphatically.     "  He  wouldn't  hurt  a  fly." 

Esther  had  often  seen  him  snapping  at  flies,  but  she  could 
not  smile. 

"  I  buried  him  secretly  in  the  back  yard,"  Debby  confessed. 
"  See!  there,  where  the  paving  stone  is  loose." 

Esther  gratified  her  by  looking  through  the  little  back  window 
into  the  sloppy  enclosure  where  washing  hung.  She  noticed  a 
cat  sauntering  quietly  over  the  spot  without  any  of  the  satisfac- 
tion it  might  have  felt  had  it  known  it  was  walking  over  the 
grave  of  an  hereditary  enemy. 

"  So  I  don't  feel  as  if  he  was  far  away,"  said  Debby.  "  I  can 
always  look  out  and  picture  him  squatting  above  the  stone 
instead  of  beneath  it." 

"  But  didn't  you  get  another?  " 

'■'■  Oh,  how  can  you  talk  so  heartlessly?  " 

"Forgive  me,  deaj^;  of  course  you  couldn't  replace  him.  And 
haven't  you  had  any  other  friends?" 

"  Who  would  make  friends  with  me,  Miss  Ansell  ? "  Debby 
asked  quietly. 


A   SHEAF  OF  SEQUELS.  469 

"  I  shall  '■  make  out  friends '  with  you,  Debby,  if  you  call  me 
that/'  said  Esther,  half  laughing,  half  crying.  "  What  was  it  we 
used  to  say  in  school?  I  forget,  but  I  know  we  used  to  wet  our 
little  fingers  in  our  mouths  and  jerk  them  abruptly  toward  the 
other  party.     That's  what  I  shall  have  to  do  with  you." 

"Oh  well,  Esther,  don't  be  cross.  But  you  do  look  such  a 
real  lady.  I  always  said  you  would  grow  up  clever,  didn't  I, 
though  ? " 

"You  did,  dear,  you  did.  I  can  never  forgive  myself  for  not 
having  looked  you  up." 

"  Oh,  but  you  had  so  much  to  do,  I  have  no  doubt,"  said 
Debby  magnanimously,  though  she  was  not  a  little  curious  to 
hear  all  Esther's  wonderful  adventures  and  to  gather  more 
about  the  reasons  of  the  girl's  mysterious  return  than  had  yet 
been  vouchsafed  her.  All  she  had  dared  to  ask  was  about  the 
family  in  America. 

"  Still,  it  was  wrong  of  me,"  said  Esther,  in  a  tone  that 
brooked  no  protest.  "  Suppose  you  had  been  in  want  and  I 
could  have  helped  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  but  you  know  I  never  take  any  help,"  said  Debby  stiffly. 

"I  didn't  know  that,"  said  Esther,  touched.  "Have  you 
never  taken  soup  at  the  Kitchen?" 

"  I  wouldn't  dream  of  such  a  thing.  Do  you  ever  remember 
me  going  to  the  Board  of  Guardians?  I  wouldn't  go  there  to 
be  bullied,  not  if  I  was  starving.  It's  only  the  cadgers  who 
don't  want  it  who  get  relief.  But,  thank  God,  in  the  worst 
seasons  I  have  always  been  able  to  earn  a  crust  and  a  cup  of 
tea.  You  see  I  am  only  a  small  family,"  concluded  Debby  with 
a  sad  smile,  "  and  the  less  one  has  to  do  with  other  people  the 
better." 

Esther  started  slightly,  feeling  a  strange  new  kinship  with  this 
lonely  soul. 

"But  surely  you  would  have  taken  help  of  me,"  she  said. 
Debby  shook  her  head  obstinately. 

"Well,  I'm  not  so  proud,"  said  Esther  with  a  tremulous  smile, 
"  for  see,  I  have  come  to  take  help  of  you." 

Then  the  tears  welled  forth  and   Debby  with    an   impulsive 


470  GRANDCHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

movement  pressed  the  little  sobbing  form  against  her  faded 
bodice  bristling  with  pin-heads.  Esther  recovered  herself  in  a 
moment  and  drank  some  more  tea. 

"  Are  the  same  people  living  here  ?  "  she  said. 

"  Not  altogether.  The  Belcovitches  have  gone  up  in  the 
world.     They  live  on  the  first  floor  now." 

"  Not  much  of  a  rise  that,''  said  Esther  smiling,  for  the  Belco- 
vitches had  always  lived  on  the  third  floor. 

"  Oh,  they  could  have  gone  to  a  better  street  altogether,''  ex- 
plained Debby,  "  only  Mr.  Belcovitch  didn't  like  the  expense  of 
a  van." 

"  Then,  Sugarman  the  Shadchaii  must  have  moved,  too,"  said 
Esther.     •'  He  used  to  have  the  first  floor." 

"  Yes,  he's  got  the  third  now.  You  see,  people  get  tired  of  liv- 
ing in  the  same  place.  Then  Ebenezer,  who  became  very  famous 
through  writing  a  book  (so  he  told  me),  went  to  live  by  himself, 
so  they  didn't  want  to  be  so  grand.  The  back  apartment  at  the 
top  of  the  house  you  used  once  to  inhabit,"  —  Debby  put  it  as 
delicately  as  she  could  —  "  is  vacant.  The  last  family  had  the 
brokers  in." 

"Are  the  Belcovitches  all  well?  I  remember  Fanny  married 
and  went  to  Manchester  before  I  left  here." 

"  Oh  yes,  they  are  all  well." 

"  What !     Even  Mrs.  Belcovitch ?  " 

"  She  still  takes  medicine,  but  she  seems  just  as  strong  as 
ever." 

"  Becky  married  yet  ?  " 

"  Oh  no,  but  she  has  won  two  breach  of  promise  cases." 

"  She  must  be  getting  old." 

"  She  is  a  fine  young  woman,  but  the  young  men  are  afraid  of 
her  now." 

"Then  they  don't  sit  on  the  stairs  in  the  morning  any  more?  " 

"  No,  young  men  seem  so  much  less  romantic  now-a-days," 
said  Debby,  sighing.  "  Besides  there's  one  flight  less  now  and  half 
the  stairs  face  the  street  door.     The  next  flight  was  so  private." 

"  I  suppose  I  shall  look  in  and  see  them  all,"  said  Esther, 
smiling.     "But  tell  me.     Is  Mrs.  Simons  living  here  still?" 


A   SHEAF  OF  SEQUELS.  471 

"No.'' 

"Where,  then?  I  should  like  to  see  her.  She  was  so  very 
kind  to  little  Sarah,  you  know.  Nearly  all  our  fried  fish  came 
from  her." 

"She  is  dead.  She  died  of  cancer.  She  suffered  a  great 
deal." 

"  Oh !  "  Esther  put  her  cup  down  and  sat  back  with  face  grown 
white. 

"  I  am  afraid  to  ask  about  any  one  else/'  she  said  at  last.  "  I 
suppose  the  Sons  of  the  Covenant  are  getting  on  all  right ;  they 
can't  be  dead,  at  least  not  all  of  them." 

"  They  have  split  up,"  said  Debby  gravely,  "  into  two  commu- 
nities. Mr.  Belcovitch  and  the  Shalotten  Shammos  quarrelled 
about  the  sale  of  the  Mitzvahs  at  the  Rejoicing  of  the  Law  two 
years  ago.  As  far  as  I  could  gather,  the  carrying  of  the  smallest 
s-croll  of  the  Law  was  knocked  down  to  the  Shalotten  Shainnios^ 
for  eighteenpence,  but  Mr.  Belcovitch,  who  had  gone  outside  a 
moment,  said  he  had  bought  up  the  privilege  in  advance  to  pre- 
sent to  Daniel  Hyams,  who  was  a  visitor,  and  whose  old  father 
had  just  died  in  Jerusalem.  There  was  nearly  a  free  fight  in  the 
Shool.  So  the  Shalotten  Shanunos  seceded  with  nineteen  fol- 
lowers and  their  wives  and  set  up  a  rival  Chevrak  round  the 
corner.  The  other  twenty-five  still  come  here.  The  deserters 
tried  to  take  Greenberg  the  Chazan  with  them,  but  Greenberg 
wanted  a  stipulation  that  they  wouldn't  engage  an  extra  Reader 
to  do  his  work  during  the  High  Festivals  ;  he  even  offered  to  do 
it  cheaper  if  they  would  let  him  do  all  the  work,  but  they  wouldn't 
consent.  As  a  compromise,  they  proposed  to  replace  him  only 
on  the  Day  of  Atonement,  as  his  voice  was  not  agreeable  enough 
for  that.  But  Greenberg  was  obstinate.  Now  I  believe  there  is 
a  movement  for  the  Sons  of  the  Covenant  to  connect  their 
CJievrah  with  the  Federation  of  minor  synagogues,  but  Mr. 
Belcovitch  says  he  won't  join  the  Federation  unless  the  term 
'minor'  is  omitted.     He  is  a  great  politician  now." 

"  Ah,  I  dare  say  he  reads  The  Flag  of  Jiidah^''  said  Esther, 
laughing,  though  Debby  recounted  all  this  history  quite  seriously. 
"  Do  you  ever  see  that  paper? " 


472  GRANDCHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

"  I  never  heard  of  it  before,"  said  Debby  simply.  "  Why  should 
I  waste  money  on  new  papers  when  I  can  always  forget  the  Lon- 
don  y^;/r;/rtr/ sufficiently?  Perhaps  Mr.  Belcovitch  buys  it;  I 
have  seen  him  with  a  Yiddish  paper.  The  '  hands '  say  that 
instead  of  breaking  off  suddenly  in  the  m4ddle  of  a  speech,  as  of 
old,  he  sometimes  stops  pressing  for  five  minutes  together  to 
denounce  Gideon,  the  member  for  Whitechapel,  and  to  say  that 
Mr.  Henry  Goldsmith  is  the  only  possible  saviour  of  Judaism  in 
the  House  of  Commons." 

"Ah,  then  he  does  read  The  Flag  of  Jiidahl  His  English 
must  have  improved." 

"  I  was  glad  to  hear  him  say  that,"  added  Debby,  when  she 
had  finished  struggling  with  the  fit  of  coughing  brought  on  by 
too  much  monologue,  "  because  I  thought  it  must  be  the  husband 
of  the  lady  who  was  so  good  to  you.     I  never  forgot  her  name." 

Esther  took  up  the  London  Journal  to  hide  her  reddening 
cheeks. 

"  Oh,  read  some  of  it  aloud,"  cried  Dutch  Debby.  "  It'll  be 
like  old  times." 

Esther  hesitated,  a  little  ashamed  of  such  childish  behavior. 
But,  deciding  to  fall  in  for  a  moment  with  the  poor  woman's 
humor,  and  glad  to  change  the  subject,  she  read  :  "  Soft  scents 
steeped  the  dainty  conservatory  in  delicious  drowsiness.  Re- 
clining on  a  blue  silk  couch,  her  wonderful  beauty  rather 
revealed  than  concealed  by  the  soft  clinging  draperies  she  wore, 
Rosaline  smiled  bewitchingly  at  the  poor  young  peer,  who  could 
not  pluck  up  courage  to  utter  the  words  of  flame  that  were  scorch- 
ing his  lips.  The  moon  silvered  the  tropical  palms,  and  from 
the  brilliant  ball-room  were  wafted  the  sweet  penetrating  strains 
of  the  '■  Blue  Danube  '  waltz  —  " 

Dutch  Debby  heaved  a  great  sigh  of  rapture. 

"  And  you  have  seen  such  sights !  "  she  said  in  awed  admira- 
tion. 

"I  have  been  in  brilliant  ball-rooms  and  moonlit  conservato- 
ries," said  Esther  evasively.  She  did  not  care  to  rob  Dutch 
Debby  of  her  ideals  by  explaining  that  high  life  was  not  all  pas- 
sion and  palm-trees. 


A   SHEAF  OF  SEQUELS.  473 

"I  am  so  glad/'  said  Debby  affectionately.  "I  have  often 
wished  to  myself,  only  a  make-believe  Avish,  you  know,  not  a 
real  wish,  if  you  understand  what  I  mean,  for  of  course  I  know 
it's  impossible.  I  sometimes  sit  at  that  window  before  going  to 
bed  and  look  at  the  moon  as  it  silvers  the  swaying  clothes-props, 
and  I  can  easily  imagine  they  are  great  tropical  palms,  especially 
when  an  organ  is  playing  round  the  corner.  Sometimes  the 
moon  shines  straight  down  on  Bobby's  tombstone,  and  then  I 
am  glad.  Ah,  now  you're  smiling.  I  know  you  think  me  a 
crazy  old  thing." 

"  Indeed,  indeed,  dear,  I  think  you're  the  darlingest  creature 
in  the  world,"  and  Esther  jumped  up  and  kissed  her  to  hide  her 
emotion.  "But  I  mustn't  waste  your  time,"  she  said  briskly. 
"I  know  you  have  your  sewing  to  do.  It's  too  long  to  tell  you 
my  story  now ;  suffice  it  to  say  (as  the  London  Journal  says) 
that  I  am  going  to  take  a  lodging  in  the  neighborhood.  Oh, 
dear,  don't  make  those  great  eyes!  I  want  to  live  in  the  East 
End." 

"  You  want  to  live  here  like  a  Princess  in  disguise.     I  see." 

"  No  you  don't,  you  romantic  old  darling.  I  want  to  live  here 
like  everybody  else.     I'm  going  to  earn  my  own  living." 

"Oh,  but  you  can  never  live  by  yourself." 

"Why  not?  Now  from  romantic  you  become  conventional. 
You've  lived  by  yourself." 

"Oh,  but  I'm  different,"  said  Debby,  flushing. 

"Nonsense,  I'm  just  as  good  as  you.  But  if  you  think  it  im- 
proper," here  Esther  had  a  sudden  idea,  "  come  and  live  with 
me." 

"  What,  be  your  chaperon ! "  cried  Debby  in  responsive  excite- 
ment; then  her  voice  dropped  again.     "  Oh,  no,  how  could  I?" 

"  Yes,  yes,  you  must,"  said  Esther  eagerly. 

Debby's  obstinate  shake  of  the  head  repelled  the  idea.  "  I 
couldn't  leave  Bobby,"  she  said.  After  a  pause,  she  asked  tim- 
idly :  "  Why  not  stay  here  ?  " 

"  Don't  be  ridiculous,"  Esther  answered.  Then  she  examined 
the  bed.     "Two  couldn't  sleep  here,"  she  said. 

"  Oh  yes,  they  could,"  said  Debby,  thoughtfully  bisecting  the 


474  GRANDCHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

blanket  with  her  hand.  '^'And  the  bed's  quite  clean  or  I 
wouldn't  venture  to  ask  you.  Maybe  ifs  not  so  soft  as  youVe 
been  used  to." 

Esther  pondered ;  she  was  fatigued  and  she  had  undergone 
too  many  poignant  emotions  already  to  relish  the  hunt  for  a 
lodging.  It  was  really  lucky  this  haven  offered  itself.  ••  Til  stay 
for  to-night,  anyhow,''  she  announced,  while  Debby's  face  lit  up 
as  with  a  bonfire  of  joy.  "To-morrow  we'll  discuss  matters  fur- 
ther.    And  now,  dear,  can  I  help  you  with  your  sewing?" 

"  No,  Esther,  thank  you  kindly.  You  see  there's  only  enough 
for  one,"  said  Debby  apologetically.  '•  To-morrow  there  may 
be  more.  Besides  you  were  never  as  clever  with  your  needle  as 
your  pen.  You  always  used  to  lose  marks  for  needlework,  and 
don't  you  remember  how  you  herring-boned  the  tucks  of  those 
petticoats  instead  of  feather-stitching  them?  Ha,  ha,  ha!  I  have 
often  laughed  at  the  recollection." 

"  Oh,  that  was  only  absence  of  mind,"  said  Esther,  tossing  her 
head  in  affected  indignation.  "  If  mv  work  isn't  good  enough 
for  you,  I  think  I'll  go  down  and  help  Becky  with  her  machine." 
She  put  on  her  bonnet,  and,  not  without  curiosity,  descended 
a  flight  of  stairs  and  knocked  at  a  door  which,  from  the  steady 
w'hirr  going  on  behind  it,  she  judged  to  be  that  of  the  work- 
room . 

"  Art  thou  a  man  or  a  woman  ? "'  came  in  Yiddish  the  well- 
remembered  tones  of  the  valetudinarian  lady. 

"A  woman!  "  answered  Esther  in  German,  She  was  glad  she 
learned  German ;  it  would  be  the  best  substitute  for  Yiddish  in 
her  new-old  life. 

'•'■  Herein  l'^  said  Mrs.  Belcovitch,  with  sentry-like  brevity. 

Esther  turned  the  handle,  and  her  surprise  was  not  diminished 
when  she  found  herself  not  in  the  work-room,  but  in  the  invalid's 
bedroom.  She  almost  stumbled  over  the  pail  of  fresh  water, 
the  supply  of  which  was  always  kept  there.  A  coarse  bouncing 
full-figured  young  woman,  with  frizzly  black  hair,  paused,  with  her 
foot  on  the  treadle  of  her  machine,  to  stare  at  the  newcomer. 
Mrs.  Belcovitch,  attired  in  a  skirt  and  a  night-cap,  stopped  aghast 
in  the  act  of  combing  out  her  wig,  which  hung  over  an  edge 


A    SHEAF  OF  SEQUELS.  475 

of  the  back  of  a  chair,  that  served  as  a  barber's  block  Like  the 
apple-woman,  she  fancied  the  apparition  a  lady  philanthropist  — 
and  though  she  had  long  ceased  to  take  charity,  the  old  instincts 
leaped  out  under  the  sudden  shock. 

"  Becky,  quick  rub  my  leg  with  liniment,  the  thick  one,''  she 
whispered  in  Yiddish. 

"  It's  only  me,  Esther  Ansell!  "  cried  the  visitor. 

"  What !  Esther !  "  cried  Mrs.  Belcovitch.  "  Gott  in  Himmell " 
and,  throwing  down  the  comb,  she  fell  in  excess  of  emotion 
upon  Esther's  neck  "I  have  so  often  wanted  to  see  you,"  cried 
the  sickly-looking  little  woman  who  hadn't  altered  a  wrinkle. 
"Often  have  I  said  to  my  Becky,  where  is  little  Esther?  —  gold 
one  sees  and  silver  one  sees,  but  Esther  sees  one  not.  Is  it  not 
so,  Becky?  Oh,  how  fine  you  look!  Why,  I  mistook  you  for 
a  lady!  You  are  married — not?  Ah  well,  you'll  find  wooers 
as  thick  as  the  street  dogs.  And  how  goes  it  with  the  father 
and  the  family  in  America?" 

"Excellently,"  answered  Esther.     "  How  are  you,  Becky?  " 

Becky  murmured  something,  and  the  two  young  women  shook 
hands.  Esther  had  an  olden  awe  of  Becky,  and  Becky  was  now 
a  little  impressed  by  Esther. 

"  I  suppose  Mr,  Weingott  is  getting  a  good  living  now  in  Man- 
chester?" Esther  remarked  cheerfully  to  Mrs.  Belcovitch. 

"  No,  he  has  a  hard  struggle,"  answered  his  mother-in-law, 
"  but  I  have  seven  grandchildren,  God  be  thanked,  and  I  expect 
an  eighth.  If  my  poor  lambkin  had  been  alive  now,  she  would 
have  been  a  great-grandmother.  My  eldest  grandchild,  Hertzel, 
has  a  talent  for  the  fiddle.  A  gentleman  is  paying  for  his  lessons, 
God  be  thanked.  I  suppose  you  have  heard  I  won  four  pounds 
on  the  lotter^^.  You  see  I  have  not  tried  thirty  years  for  nothing! 
If  1  only  had  my  health,  I  should  have  little  to  grumble  at.  Yes, 
four  pounds,  and  what  think  you  I  have  bought  with  it?  You 
shall  see  it  inside.  A  cupboard  with  glass  doors,  such  as  we  left 
behind  in  Poland,  and  we  have  hung  the  shelves  with  pink  paper 
and  made  loops  for  silver  forks  to  rest  in  —  it  makes  me  feel  as 
if  I  had  just  cut  off  my  tresses.  But  then  I  look  on  my  Becky 
and  I  remember  that  —  go  thou  inside,  Becky,  my  life!     Thou 


476  GRANDCHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO, 

makest  it  too  hard  for  him.  Give  him  a  word  while  I  speak  with 
Esther." 

Becky  made  a  grimace  and  shrugged  her  shoulders,  but  disap- 
peared through  the  door  that  led  to  the  real  workshop. 

'"A  fine  maid!"  said  the  mother,  her  eyes  following  the  girl 
with  pride.  "  No  wonder  she  is  so  hard  to  please.  She  vexes 
him  so  that  he  eats  out  his  heart.  He  comes  every  morning 
with  a  bag  of  cakes  or  an  orange  or  a  fat  Dutch  herring,  and  now 
she  has  moved  her  machine  to  my  bedroom,  where  he  can't  follow 
her,  the  unhappy  youth." 

"  Who  is  it  now  ? "  inquired  Esther  in  amusement. 

"  Shosshi  Shmendrik." 

"  Shosshi  Shmendrik!  Wasn't  that  the  young  man  who  mar- 
ried the  Widow  Finkelstein?  " 

"Yes  —  a  very  honorable  and  seemly  youth.  But  she  pre- 
ferred her  first  husband,"  said  Mrs.  Belcovitch  laughing,  "  and 
followed  him  only  four  years  after  Shosshi's  marriage.  Shosshi 
has  now  all  her  money  —  a  very  seemly  and  honorable  youth." 

"  But  will  it  come  to  anything?" 

'"  It  is  already  settled.  Becky  gave  in  two  days  ago.  After 
all,  she  will  not  always  be  young.  The  Taiiann  will  be  held 
next  Sunday.  Perhaps  you  would  like  to  come  and  see  the 
betrothal  contract  signed.  The  Kovna  Mags^id  will  be  here,  and 
there  will  be  rum  and  cakes  to  the  heart's  desire.  Becky  has 
Shosshi  in  great  affection  ;  they  are  just  suited.  Only  she  likes 
to  tease,  poor  little  thing.  And  then  she  is  so  shy.  Go  in  and 
see  them,  and  the  cupboard  with  glass  doors." 

Esther  pushed  open  the  door,  and  Mrs.  Belcovitch  resumed 
her  loving  manipulation  of  the  wig. 

The  Belcovitch  workshop  was  another  of  the  landmarks  of  the 
past  that  had  undergone  no  change,  despite  the  cupboard  with 
glass  doors  and  the  slight  difference  in  the  shape  of  the  room. 
The  paper  roses  still  bloomed  in  the  corners  of  the  mirror,  the 
cotton-labels  still  adorned  the  wall  around  it.  The  master's  new 
umbrella  still  stood  unopened  in  a  corner.  The  "  hands  "  were 
other,  but  then  Mr.  Belcovitch's  hands  were  always  changing. 
He  never  employed  "union-men,"  and  his  liirelings  never  stayed 


A    SHEAF  OF  SEQUELS.  ^11 

with  him  longer  than  they  could  help.  One  of  the  present  batch, 
a  bent,  middle-aged  man,  with  a  deeply-lined  face,  was  Simon 
Wolf,  long  since  thrown  over  by  the  labor  party  he  had  created, 
and  fallen  lower  and  lower  till  he  returned  to  the  Belcovitch 
workshop  whence  he  sprang.  Wolf,  who  had  a  wife  and  six 
children,  was  grateful  to  Mr.  Belcovitch  in  a  dumb,  sullen  w^ay, 
remembering  how  that  capitalist  had  figured  in  his  red  rhetoric, 
though  it  was  an  extra  pang  of  martyrdom  to  have  to  listen 
deferentially  to  Belcovitch's  numerous  political  and  economical 
fallacies.  He  would  have  preferred  the  curter  dogmatism  of 
earlier  days.  Shosshi  Shmendrik  was  chatting  quite  gaily  with 
Becky,  and  held  her  finger-tips  cavalierly  in  his  coarse  fist,  with- 
out obvious  objection  on  her  part.  His  face  was  still  pimply, 
but  it  had  lost  its  painful  shyness  and  its  readiness  to  blush 
without  provocation.  His  bearing,  too,  was  less  clumsy  and 
uncouth.  Evidently,  to  love  the  Widow  Finkelstein  had  been  a 
liberal  education  to  him.  Becky  had  broken  the  news  of  Esther's 
arrival  to  her  father,  as  was  evident  from  the  odor  of  turpentine 
emanating  from  the  opened  bottle  of  rum  on  the  central  table. 
Mr.  Belcovitch,  whose  hair  was  gray  now,  but  who  seemed  to 
have  as  much  stamina  as  ever,  held  out  his  left  hand  (the  right 
was  wielding  the  pressing-iron)  without  moving  another  muscle. 

"iV//,  it  gladdens  me  to  see  you  are  better  off  than  of  old," 
he  said  gravely  in  Yiddish. 

"Thank  you.  I  am  glad  to  see  you  looking  so  fresh  and 
healthy,"  replied  Esther  in  German. 

"  You  were  taken  away  to  be  educated,  was  it  not  ? " 

"Yes." 

"  And  how  many  tongues  do  you  know? " 

"  Four  or  five,"  said  Esther,  smiling. 

"Four  or  five!"  repeated  Mr.  Belcovitch,  so  impressed  that 
he  stopped  pressing.  "Then  you  can  aspire  to  be  a  clerk!  I 
know  several  firms  where  they  have  young  women  now." 

"  Don't  be  ridiculous,  father,"  interposed  Becky.  "  Clerks 
aren't  so  grand  now-a-days  as  they  used  to  be.  Very  likely 
she  would  turn  up  her  nose  at  a  clerkship." 

"  Pm  sure  I  wouldn't,"  said  Esther. 


478  GRANDCHILDREN   OF   THE    GHETTO. 

"There!  thou  hearest!''  said  Mr.  Belcovitch,  with  angry  sat- 
isfaction. "It  is  thou  who  hast  too  many  flies  in  thy  nostrils. 
Thou  wouldst  throw-  over  Shosshi  if  thou  hadst  thine  own 
way.  Thou  art  the  only  person  in  the  world  who  listens  not 
to  me.  Abroad  my  word  decides  great  matters.  Three  times 
has  my  name  been  printed  in  The  Flag  of  Jiidah.  Little 
Esther  had  not  such  a  father  as  thou,  but  never  did  she  make 
mock  of  him." 

"Of  course,  everybody's  better  than  me,"  said  Becky  petu- 
lantly, as  she  snatched  her  fingers  away  from  Shosshi. 

"  No,  thou  art  better  than  the  whol^  world,"  protested  Shosshi 
Shmendrik,  feeling  for  the  fingers. 

"Who  spoke  to  thee?  "  demanded  Belcovitch,  incensed. 

"Who  spoke  to  thee?  "echoed  Becky.  And  when  Shosshi, 
with  empurpled  pimples,  cowered  before  both,  father  and  daughter 
felt  allies  again,  and  peace  was  re-established  at  Shosshi's  ex- 
pense. But  Esther's  curiosity  was  satisfied.  She  seemed  to  see 
the  whole  future  of  this  domestic  group :  Belcovitch  accumulat- 
ing gold-pieces  and  Mrs.  Belcovitch  medicine-bottles  till  they 
died,  and  the  lucky  but  henpecked  Shosshi  gathering  up  half  the 
treasure  on  behalf  of  the  buxom  Becky.  Refusing  the  glass  of 
rum,  she  escaped. 

The  dinner  which  Debby  (under  protest)  did  not  pay  for,  con- 
sisted of  viands  from  the  beloved  old  cook-shop,  the  potatoes 
and  rice  of  childhood  being  supplemented  by  a  square  piece  of 
baked  meat,  likewise  knives  and  forks.  Esther  was  anxious  to 
experience  again  the  magic  taste  and  savor  of  the  once  coveted 
delicacies.  Alas!  the  preliminary  sniff  failed  to  make  her  mouth 
water,  the  first  bite  betrayed  the  inferiority  of  the  potatoes  used. 
Even  so  the  unattainable  tart  of  infancy  mocks  the  moneyed 
but  dyspeptic  adult.  But  she  concealed  her  disillusionment 
bravely. 

"Do  you  know,"  said  Debby,  pausing  in  her  voluptuous 
scouring  of  the  gravy-lined  plate  with  a  bit  of  bread,  "  I  can 
hardly  believe  my  eyes.  It  seems  a  dream  that  you  are  sitting 
at  dinner  with  me.     Pinch  me,  will  you?" 

"You  have  been  pinched  enough,"  said  Esther  sadly.     Which 


A   SHEAF  OF  SEQUELS.  479 

shows  that  one  can  pun  with  a  heavy  heart.  This  is  one  of  the 
things  Shakspeare  knew  and  Dr.  Johnson  didn't. 

In  the  afternoon,  Esther  went  round  to  Zachariali  Square. 
She  did  not  meet  any  of  the  old  faces  as  slie  walked  through 
the  Ghetto,  though  a  little  crowd  that  blocked  her  way  at  one 
point  turned  out  to  be  merely  spectators  of  an  epileptic  perform- 
ance by  Meckisch.  Esther  turned  away,  in  amused  disgust. 
She  wondered  whether  Mrs.  Meckisch  still  flaunted  it  in  satins 
and  heavy  necklaces,  or  whether  Meckisch  had  divorced  her,  or 
survived  her,  or  something  equally  inconsiderate.  Hard  by  the 
old  Ruins  (which  she  found  ''  ruined ''  by  a  railway)  Esther  was 
almost  run  over  by  an  iron  hoop  driven  by  a  boy  with  a  long 
swarthy  face  that  irresistibly  recalled  Malka's. 

"  Is  your  grandmother  in  town? ''  she  said  at  a  venture. 

"  Y — e — s,""  said  the  driver  wonderingly.  "  She  is  over  in 
her  own  house.'" 

Esther  did  not  hasten  towards  it. 

"  Your  name's  Ezekiel,  isn't  it?  " 

"Yes,"  replied  the  boy;  and  then  Esther  was  sure  it  was  the 
Redeemed  Son  of  whom  her  father  had  told  her. 

"  Are  your  mother  and  father  well  ?  " 

"  Fathers  away  travelling.""  Ezekiel's  tone  was  a  little  im- 
patient, his  feet  shuffled  uneasily,  itching  to  chase  the  flying 
hoop. 

"How's  your  aunt  —  your  aunt —  I  forget  her  name." 

"Aunt  Leah.     She's  gone  to  Liverpool." 

"What  for?" 

"  She  lives  there  ;  she  has  opened  a  branch  store  of  granma's 
business.     Who  are  you?"  concluded  Ezekiel  candidly. 

"You  won't  remember  me,"  said  Esther.  "Tell  me,  your 
aunt  is  called  Mrs.  Levine,  isn't  she?" 

"Oh  yes,  but,"  with  a  shade  of  contempt,  "she  hasn't  got  any 
children." 

"  How  many  brothers  and  sisters  have  yoit  got?"  said  Esther 
with  a  little  laugh. 

"  Heaps.  Oh,  but  you  won't  see  them  if  you  go  in ;  they're 
in  school,  most  of  'em." 


480  GRANDCHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

"And  why  aren't  you  at  school?" 

The  Redeemed  Son  became  scarlet.  •'  Tve  got  a  bad  leg," 
ran  mechanically  off  his  tongue.  Then,  administering  a  savage 
thwack  to  his  hoop,  he  set  out  in  pursuit  of  it.  "  It's  no  good 
calling  on  mother,"  he  yelled  back,  turning  his  head  unexpect- 
edly.    "  She  ain't  in." 

Esther  walked  into  the  Square,  where  the  same  big-headed 
babies  were  still  rocking  in  swings  suspended  from  the  lintels, 
and  where  the  same  ruddy-faced  septuagenarians  sat  smoking 
short  pipes  and  playing  nap  on  trays  in  the  sun.  From  several 
doorways  came  the  reek  of  fish  frying.  The  houses  looked 
ineffably  petty  and  shabby.  Esther  wondered  how  she  could 
ever  have  conceived  this  a  region  of  opulence  ;  still  more  how 
she  could  ever  have  located  Malka  and  her  family  on  the  very 
outskirt  of  the  semi-divine  classes.  But  the  semi-divine  persons 
tli^mselves  had  long  since  shrunk  and  dwindled, 
^he  found  Malka  brooding  over  the  fire ;  on  the  side-table 
was  the  clothes-brush.  The  great  events  of  a  crowded  decade 
of  European  history  had  left  Malka's  domestic  interior  untouched. 
The  fall  of  dynasties,  philosophies  and  religions  had  not  shaken 
one  china  dog  from  its  place ;  she  had  not  turned  a  hair  of  hef 
wig ;  the  black  silk  bodice  might  have  been  the  same  ;  the  gold 
chain  at  her  bosom  was.  Time  had  written  a  few  more  lines  on 
the  tan-colored  equine  face,  but  his  influence  had  been  only  skin 
deep.  Everybody  grows  old ;  few  people  grow.  Malka  was  of 
the  majority^ 

It  was  only  with  difficulty  that  she  recollected  Esther,  and  she 
was  visibly  impressed  by  the  young  lady's  appearance. 

"  It's  very  good  of  you  to  come  and  see  an  old  woman,"  she 
said  in  her  mixed  dialect,  which  skipped  irresponsibly  from  Eng- 
lish to  Yiddish  and  back  again.  "  It's  more  than  my  own  Kinder 
do.     I  wonder  they  let  you  come  across  and  see  me." 

"I  haven't  been  to  see  them  yet,"  Esther  interrupted. 

"Ah,  that  explains  it,"  said  Malka  with  satisfaction.  "They'd 
have  told  you,  •  Don't  go  and  see  the  old  woman,  she's  vie- 
shiiggah,  she  ought  to  be  in  the  asylum.'  I  bring  children  into 
the  w'orld  and   buy   them   husbands  and   businesses  and  bed- 


A    SHEAF  OF  SEQUELS.  481 

clothes,  and  this  is  my  profit.  The  other  day  my  Milly  —  the 
impudent-face!  I  would  have  boxed  her  ears  if  she  hadn't  been 
suckling  Nathaniel.  Let  hei^  tell  me  again  that  ink  isn't  good 
for  the  ring-worm,  and  my  five  fingers  shall  leave  a  mark  on  her 
face  worse  than  any  of  Gabriel's  ring-worms.  But  I  have  washed 
my  hands  of  her;  she  can  go  her  way  and  FU  go  mine.  I've 
taken  an  oath  I'll  have  nothing  to  do  with  her  and  her  children 
—  no,  not  if  I  live  a  thousand  years.  It's  all  through  Milly's 
ignorance  she  has  had  such  heavy  losses." 

"What!  Mr.  Phillips's  business  been  doing  badly?  I'm  so 
sorry." 

"No,  no!  my  family  never  does  bad  business.  It's  my  Milly's 
children.  She  lost  two.  As  for  my  Leah,  God  bless  her,  she's 
been  more  unfortunate  still ;  I  always  said  that  old  beggar- 
woman  had  the  Evil  Eye!  I  sent  her  to  Liverpool  with  her 
Sam." 

"  I  know,"  murmured  Esther. 

"But  she  is  a  good  daughter.  I  wish  I  had  a  thousand  such. 
She  writes  to  me  every  week  and  my  little  Ezekiel  writes  back ; 
English  they  learn  them  in  that  heathen  school,"  Malka  inter- 
rupted herself  sarcastically,  "and  it  was  I  who  had  to  learn  him 
to  begin  a  letter  properly  with  •  I  write  you  these  few  lines  hop- 
ing to  find  you  in  good  health  as,  thank  God,  it  leaves  me  at 
present;'  he  used  to  begin  anyhow  — " 

She  came  to  a  stop,  having  tangled  the  thread  of  her  discourse 
and  bethought  herself  of  offering  Esther  a  peppermint.  But 
Esther  refused  and  bethought  herself  of  inquiring  after  Mr. 
Birnbaum. 

"  My  Michael  is  quite  well,  thank  God,"  said  Malka,  "  though 
he  is  still  pig-headed  in  business  matters!  He  buys  so  badly, 
you  know ;  gives  a  hundred  pounds  for  what's  not  worth 
twenty." 

"  But  you  said  business  was  all  right  ?  " 

"Ah,  that's  different.  Of  course  he  sells  at  a  good  profit, — 
thank  God.  If  I  wanted  to  provoke  Providence  I  could  keep 
my  carriage  like  any  of  your  grand  West-End  ladies.  But  that 
doesn't  make  him  a  good   buyer.     And  the  worst  of  it  is  he 

21 


482  GRANDCHILDREN  OF  THE    GHETTO. 

always  thinks  he  has  got  a  bargain.  He  won't  listen  to  reason 
at  all,"  said  Malka,  shaking  her  head  dolefully.  ^'  He  might  be 
a  child  of  mine,  instead  of  my  husl^nd.  If  God  didn't  send  him 
such  luck  and  blessing,  we  might  come  to  want  bread,  coal,  and 
meat  tickets  ourseh-es,  instead  of  giving  them  away.  Do  you 
know  I  found  out  that  Mrs.  Isaacs,  across  the  square,  only  specu- 
lates her  guinea  in  the  drawings  to  give  away  the  tickets  she 
wins  to  her  poor  relations,  so  that  she  gets  all  the  credit  of  char- 
ity and  her  name  in  the  papers,  while  saving  the  money  she'd 
have  to  give  to  her  poor  relations  all  the  samel  Nobody  can 
say  I  give  my  tickets  to  my  poor  relations.  You  should  just  see 
how  much  my  Michael  vows  away  at  Shool —  he's  been  Parnass 
for  the  last  twelve  years  straight  off;  all  the  members  respect 
him  so  much  ;  it  isn't  often  you  see  a  business  man  with  such 
fear  of  Heaven.  Wait!  my  Ezekiel  will  be  Barmitzvah  in  a  few 
years ;  then  yoii  shall  see  what  I  will  do  for  that  Shool.  You 
shall  see  what  an  example  of  Yiddishkeit  I  will  give  to  a  link 
generation.  Mrs.  Benjamin,  of  the  Ruins,  purified  her  knives 
and  forks  for  Passover  by  sticking  them  between  the  boards 
of  the  floor.  Would  you  believe  she  didn't  make  them  red  hot 
first?  I  gave  her  a  bit  of  my  mind.  She  said  she  forgot.  But 
not  she!  She's  no  cat's  head.  She's  a  regular  Christian,  that's 
what  she  is.  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  she  becomes  one  like  that 
blackguard,  David  Brandon  ;  I  always  told  my  Milly  he  was  not 
the  sort  of  person  to  allow  across  the  threshold.  It  was  Sam 
Levine  who  brought  him.  You  see  what  comes  of  having  the 
son  of  a  proselyte  in  the  family!  Some  say  Reb  Shemuel's 
daughter  narrowly  escaped  being  engaged  to  him.  But  that 
story  has  a  beard  already.  I  suppose  it's  the  sight  of  you  brings 
up  Olov  Hasholotn  times.  Well,  and  how  are  you?"  she  con- 
cluded abruptly,  becoming  suddenly  conscious  of  imperfect 
courtesy. 

"Oh,  I'm  very  well,  thank  you,"  said  Esther. 

"  Ah,  that's  right.  You're  looking  very  well,  iinbesJweer. 
Quite  a  grand  lady.  I  always  knew  you'd  be  one  some  day. 
There  was  your  poor  mother,  peace  be  upon  him!  She  went 
and    married   your   father,    though    I    warned    her    he    was   a 


A   SHEAF  OF  SEQUELS.  483 

Schnorrer  and  only  wanted  her  because  she  had  a  rich  family  ;  he'd 
have  sent  you  out  with  matches  if  I  hadn't  stopped  it.  I  remem- 
ber saying  to  him,  '  That  little  Esther  has  Aristotle's  head  —  let 
her  learn  all  she  can,  as  sure  as  I  stand  here  she  will  grow  up  to 
be  a  lady ;  I  shall  have  no  need  to  be  ashamed  of  owning  her  for 
a  cousin.'  He  was  not  so  pig-headed  as  your  mother,  and  you 
see  the  result.'" 

She  surveyed  the  result  with  an  affectionate  smile,  feeling 
genuinely  proud  of  her  share  in  its  production.  "  If  my  Ezekiel 
were  only  a  few  years  older,"  she  added  musingly. 

"  Oh,  but  I  am  not  a  great  lady,"  said  Esther,  hastening  to 
disclaim  false  pretensions  to  the  hand  of  the  hero  of  the  hoop, 
"  Fve  left  the  Goldsmiths  and  come  back  to  live  in  the  East 
End." 

"  What!  "  said  Malka.  "  Left  the  West  End!  "  Her  swarthy 
face  grew  darker ;  the  skin  about  her  black  eyebrows  was 
wrinkled  with  wrath. 

"  Are  you  Meshiiggah  ? "  she  asked  after  an  awful  silence.  "Or 
have  you,  perhaps,  saved  up  a  tidy  sum  of  money?" 

Esther  flushed  and  shook  her  head. 

"  There's  no  use  coming  to  me.  Fm  not  a  rich  woman, 
far  from  it ;  and  I  have  been  blessed  with  Kinder  who  are 
helpless  without  me.  It's  as  I  always  said  to  your  father. 
'•  Meshe,'  I  said,  '  you're  a  Schnorrer  and  your  children'll  grow 
up  Schnorrers.'' " 

Esther  turned  white,  but  the  dwindling  of  Malka's  semi-divin- 
ity had  diminished  the  old  woman's  power  of  annoying  her. 

"  I  want  to  earn  my  own  living,"  she  said,  with  a  smile 
that  was  almost  contemptuous.  "  Do  you  call  that  being  a 
Schnorrer  ? '' 

'<  Don't  argue  with  me.  You're  just  like  your  poor  mother, 
peace  be  upon  him!"  cried  the  irate  old  woman.  "You  God's 
fool!  You  were  provided  for  in  life  and  you  have  no  right  to 
come  upon  the  family." 

"  But  isn't  it  Schnorring  to  be  dependent  on  strangers  ? " 
inquired  Esther  with  bitter  amusement. 

"Don't  stand  therewith  your  impudence-face!  "  cried  Malka, 


484  GRANDCHILDREN  OF    THE    GHETTO. 

her  eyes  blazing  fire.  "  You  know  as  well  as  I  do  that  a 
Schnorrer  is  a  person  you  give  sixpences  to.  When  a  rich 
family  takes  in  a  motherless  girl  like  you  and  clothes  her  and 
feeds  her,  why  it's  mocking  Heaven  to  run  away  and  want  to 
earn  your  own  living.  Earn  your  living.  Pooh!  What  liv- 
ing can  you  earn,  you  with  your  gloves?  You're  all  by  your- 
self in  the  world  now  ;  your  father  can't  help  you  any  more.  He 
did  enough  for  you  when  you  were  little,  keeping  you  at  school 
when  you  ought  to  have  been  out  selling  matches.  You'll  starve 
and  come  to  me,  that's  what  you'll  do.''' 

''  I  may  starve,  but  I'll  never  come  to  you,"  said  Esther,  now 
really  irritated  by  the  truth  in  Malka's  words.  What  living, 
indeed,  could  she  earn!  She  turned  her  back  haughtily  on  the 
old  woman ;  not  without  a  recollection  of  a  similar  scene  in  her 
childhood.  History  was  repeating  itself  on  a  smaller  scale  than 
seemed  consistent  with  its  dignity.  When  she  got  outside  she 
saw  Milly  in  conversation  with  a  young  lady  at  the  door  of  her 
little  house,  diagonally  opposite.  Milly  had  noticed  the  strange 
visitor  to  her  mother,  for  the  rival  camps  carried  on  a  system  of 
espionage  from  behind  their  respective  gauze  blinds,  and  she 
had  come  to  the  door  to  catch  a  better  glimpse  of  her  when  she 
left.  Esther  was  passing  through  Zachariah  Square  without  any 
intention  of  recognizing  Milly.  The  daughter's  flaccid  per- 
sonality was  not  so  attractive  as  the  mother's ;  besides,  a  visit 
to  her  might  be  construed  into  a  mean  revenge  on  the  old 
woman.  But,  as  if  in  response  to  a  remark  of  Milly's,  the  young 
lady  turned  her  face  to  look  at  Esther,  and  then  Esther  saw  that 
it  was  Hannah  Jacobs.  She  felt  hot  and  uncomfortable,  and 
half  reluctant  to  renew  acquaintance  witli  Levi's  family,  but  with 
another  impulse  she  crossed  over  to  the  group,  and  went  through 
the  inevitable  formulae.  Then,  refusing  Milly's  warm-hearted 
invitation  to  have  a  cup  of  tea,  she  shook  hands  and  walked 
away. 

"Wait  a  minute,  Miss  Ansell,"  said  Hannah.  "Til  come 
with  you." 

Milly  gave  her  a  shilling,  with  a  facetious  grimace,  and  she 
rejoined  Esther. 


A   SHEAF  OF  SEQUELS.  485 

"  Tm  collecting  money  for  a  poor  family  of  Greeners  just 
landed/'  she  said.  "•  They  had  a  few  roubles,  but  they  fell 
among  the  usual  sharks  at  the  docks,  and  the  cabman  took  all 
the  rest  of  their  money  to  drive  them  to  the  Lane.  I  left 
them  all  crying  and  rocking  themselves  to  and  fro  in  the  street 
while  I  ran  round  to  collect  a  little  to  get  them  a  lodging." 

"Poor  things!  "  said  Esther. 

"Ah,  I  can  see  you've  been  away  from  the  Jews,"  said  Hannah 
smiling.     "  In  the  olden  days  you  would  have  said  Achi  nebbich.'''' 

"Should  I?"  said  Esther,  smiling  in  return  and  beginning  to 
like  Hannah.  She  had  seen  very  little  of  her  in  those  olden 
days,  for  Hannah  had  been  an  adult  and  well-to-do  as  long  as 
Esther  could  remember ;  it  seemed  amusing  now  to  walk  side  by 
side  with  her  in  perfect  equality  and  apparently  little  younger. 
For  Hannah's  appearance  had  not  aged  perceptibly,  which  was 
perhaps  why  Esther  recognized  her  at  once.  She  had  not  be- 
come angular  like  her  mother,  nor  coarse  and  stout  like  other 
mothers.  She  remained  slim  and  graceful,  with  a  virginal  charm 
of  expression.  But  the  pretty  face  had  gained  in  refinement ;  it 
looked  earnest,  almost  spiritual,  telling  of  suiTering  and  patience, 
not  unblent  with  peace. 

Esther  silently  extracted  half-a-crown  from  her  purse  and 
handed  it  to   Hannah. 

"  I  didn't  mean  to  ask  you,  indeed  I  didn't,"  said  Hannah. 

"Oh,  I  am  glad  you  told  me,"  said  Esther  tremulously. 

The  idea  of  her  giving  charity,  after  the  account  of  herself  she 
had  just  heard,  seemed  ironical  enough.  She  wished  the  trans- 
fer of  the  coin  had  taken  place  within  eyeshot  of  JVIalka;  then 
dismissed  the  thought  as  unworthy. 

"  You'll  come  in  and  have  a  cup  of  tea  with  us,  won't  you,  after 
we've  lodged  the  Greeners  ?  "  said  Hannah.  "  Now  don't  say  no. 
It'll  brighten  up  my  father  to  see  '  Reb  Moshe's  little  girl.' " 

Esther  tacitly  assented. 

"I  heard  of  all  of  you  recently,"  she  said,  when  they  had  hur- 
ried on  a  little  further.     '•  I  met  your  brother  at  the  theatre." 

Hannah's  face  lit  up. 

"  How  long  was  that  ago?  "  she  said  anxiously. 


486  GRANDCHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

"  I  remember  exactly.  It  was  the  night  before  the  first  Seder 
night.'' 

"Was  he  well.?" 

"  Perfectly." 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  glad." 

She  told  Esther  of  Levi's  strange  failure  to  appear  at  the 
annual  family  festival.  •'  My  father  went  out  to  look  for  him. 
Our  anxiety  was  intolerable.  He  did  not  return  until  half-past 
one  in  the  morning.  He  was  in  a  terrible  state.  'Well/  we 
asked,  'have  you  seen  him?'  'I  have  seen  him,'  he  answered. 
'  He  is  dead.'  " 

Esther  grew  pallid.  Was  this  the  sequel  to  the  strange  epi- 
sode in  Mr.  Henry  Goldsmith's  library? 

"  Of  course  he  wasn't  really  dead,"  pursued  Hannah  to  Es- 
ther's relief.  "  My  father  w'ould  hardly  speak  a  word  more,  but 
we  gathered  he  had  seen  him  doing  something  very  dreadful, 
and  that  henceforth  Levi  would  be  dead  to  him.  Since  then  we 
dare  not  speak  his  name.  Please  don't  refer  to  him  at  tea.  I 
went  to  his  rooms  on  the  sly  a  few  days  afterwards,  but  he  had 
left  them,  and  since  then  I  haven't  been  able  to  hear  anything 
of  him.     Sometimes  I  fancy  he's  gone  off  to  the  Cape." 

"  More  likely  to  the  provinces  with  a  band  of  strolling  players. 
He  told  me  he  thought  of  throwing  up  the  law  for  the  boards, 
and  I  know  you  cannot  make  a  beginning  in  London." 

"  Do  you  think  that's  it?"  said  Hannah,  looking  relieved  in 
her  turn. 

"  I  feel  sure  that's  the  explanation,  if  he's  not  in  London.  But 
what  in  Heaven's  name  can  vour  father  have  seen  him  doinor?" 

"  Nothing  very  dreadful,  depend  upon  it,''  said  Hannah,  a 
slight  shade  of  bitterness  crossing  her  wistful  features.  "  I 
know  he's  inclined  to  be  wild,  and  he  should  never  have  been 
allowed  to  get  the  bit  between  his  teeth,  but  I  dare  say  it  was 
only  some  ceremonial  crime  Levi  was  caught  committing." 

"Certainly.  That  would  be  it,"  said  Esther.  "He  confessed 
to  me  that  he  was  very  li)ik.  Judging  by  your  tone,  you  seem 
rather  inclined  that  way  yourself,"  she  said,  smiling  and  a  little 
surprised. 


A    SHEAF  OF  SEQUELS.  487 

"Do  I?  I  don't  know,"  said  Hannah,  simply.  "Sometimes 
I  think  Fm  very  f root n.''"' 

"  Surely  you  know  what  you  are  ?  '^  persisted  Esther.  Hannah 
shook  her  head. 

"  Well,  you  know  whether  you  believe  in  Judaism  or  not  ?  " 

"I  don't  know  what  I  believe.  I  do  everything  a  Jewess 
ought  to  do,  I  suppose.     And  yet  —  oh,  I  don't  know." 

Esther's  smile  faded ;  she  looked  at  her  companion  with  fresh 
interest.  Hannah's  face  was  full  of  brooding  thought,  and  she 
had  unconsciously  come  to  a  standstill.  "  I  wonder  whether 
anybody  understands  herself,"  she  said  reflectively.     "  Do  you?  " 

Esther  flushed  at  the  abrupt  question  without  knowing  why. 
"I  —  I  don't  know,"  she  stammered. 

"  No,  I  don't  think  anybody  does,  quite,"  Hannah  answered. 
"I  feel  sure  I  don't.  And  yet —  yes,  I  do.  I  must  be  a  good 
Jewess.     I  must  believe  my  life." 

Somehow  the  tears  came  into  her  eyes ;  her  face  had  the  look 
of  a  saint.  Esther's  eyes  met  hers  in  a  strange  subtle  glance. 
Then  their  souls  were  knit.     They  walked  on  rapidly. 

"  Well,  I  do  hope  you'll  hear  from  him  soon,"  said  Esther. 

"  It's  cruel  of  him  not  to  write,"  replied  Hannah,  knowing  she 
meant  Levi ;  "he  might  easily  send  me  a  line  in  a  disguised 
hand.  But  then,  as  Miriam  Hyams  always  says,  brothers  are  so 
selfish." 

"Oh,  how  is  Miss  Hyams?     I  used  to  be  in  her  class." 

"  I  could  guess  that  from  your  still  calling  her  Miss,"  said 
Hannah  with  a  gentle  smile. 

"  Why,  is  she  married?  " 

"  No,  no  ;  I  don't  mean  that.  She  still  lives  with  her  brother 
and  his  wife ;  he  married  Sugarman  the  Shadchait's  daughter, 
you  know." 

"  Bessie,  wasn't  it?  " 

"  Yes  ;  they  are  a  devoted  couple,  and  I  suspect  Miriam  is  a 
little  jealous  ;  but  she  seems  to  enjoy  herself  anyway.  I  don't 
think  there  is  a  piece  at  the  theatres  she  can't  tell  you  about,  and 
she  makes  Daniel  take  her  to  all  the  dances  going." 

"  Is  she  still  as  pretty?  "  asked  Esther.     "  I  know  all  her  girls 


488  GRANDCHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

used  to  rave  over  her  and  throw  her  in  the  faces  of  girls  with 
ugly  teachers.     She  certainly  knew  how  to  dress. '^ 

"  She  dresses  better  than  ever,"  said  Hannah,  evasively. 

"  That  sounds  ominous,'"'  observed  Esther,  laughingly. 

"Oh,  she's  good-looking  enough!  Her  nose  seems  to  have 
turned  up  more  ;  but  perhaps  that's  an  optical  illusion  ;  she  talks 
so  sarcastically  now-a-days  that  I  seem  to  see  it."  Hannah 
smiled  a  little.  "  She  doesn't  think  much  of  Jewish  young  men. 
By  the  way,  are  you  engaged  yet,  Esther?" 

"  What  an  ideal "  murmured  Esther,  blushing  beneath  her 
spotted  veil. 

"Well,  you're  very  young,"  said  Hannah,  glancing  down  at 
the  smaller  figure  with  a  sweet  matronly  smile. 

"  I  shall  never  marry,"  Esther  said  in  low  tones. 

"Don't  be  ridiculous,  Esther!  There's  no  happiness  for  a 
woman  without  it.  You  needn't  talk  like  Miriam  Hyams — at 
least  not  yet.     Oh  yes,  I  know  what  you're  thinking  —  " 

"  No,  I'm  not,"  faintly  protested  Esther. 

"Yes,  you  are,"  said  Hannah,  smiling  at  the  paradoxical  de- 
nial. "  But  who'd  have  me?  Ah,  here  are  the  Greeners l""  and 
her  smile  softened  to  angelic  tenderness. 

It  was  a  frowzy,  unsightly  group  that  sat  on  the  pavement, 
surrounded  by  a  semi-sympathetic  crowd  —  the  father  in  a  long 
grimy  coat ;  the  mother  covered,  as  to  her  head,  with  a  shawl, 
which  also  contained  the  baby.  But  the  elders  were  naively 
childish  and  the  children  uncannily  elderly ;  and  something  in 
Esther's  breast  seemed  to  stir  with  a  strange  sense  of  kinship. 
The  race  instinct  awoke  to  consciousness  of  itself.  Dulled  by  con- 
tact with  cultured  Jews,  transformed  almost  to  repulsion  by  the 
spectacle  of  the  coarsely  prosperous,  it  leaped  into  life  at  the  ap- 
peal of  squalor  and  misery.  In  the  morning  the  Ghetto  had 
simply  chilled  her ;  her  heart  had  turned  to  it  as  to  a  haven,  and 
the  reality  was  dismal.  Now  that  the  first  ugliness  had  worn  off, 
she  felt  her  heart  warming.  Her  eyes  moistened.  She  thrilled 
from  head  to  foot  with  the  sense  of  a  mission —  of  a  niche  in  the 
temple  of  human  service  which  she  had  been  predestined  to  fill. 
Who  could  comprehend  as  she  these  stunted  souls,  limited  in 


A   SHEAF  OF  SEQUELS.  489 

all  save  suffering?  Happiness  was  not  for  her ;  but  service  re- 
mained. Penetrated  by  the  new  emotion,  she  seemed  to  herself 
to  have  found  the  key  to  Hannah's  holy  calm. 

With  the  money  now  in  hand^,  the  two  girls  sought  a  lodging 
for  the  poor  waifs.  Esther  suddenly  remembered  the  empty 
back  garret  in  No.  i  Royal  Street,  and  here,  after  due  negotia- 
tions with  the  pickled-herring  dealer  next  door,  the  family  was 
installed.  Esther's  emotions  at  the  sight  of  the  old  place  were 
poignant ;  happily  the  bustle  of  installation,  of  laying  down  a 
couple  of  mattresses,  of  borrowing  Dutch  Debby's  tea-things, 
and  of  getting  ready  a  meal,  allayed  their  intensity.  That  little 
figure  with  the  masculine  boots  showed  itself  but  by  fits  and 
flashes.  But  the  strangeness  of  the  episode  formed  the  under- 
current of  all  her  thoughts  ;  it  seemed  to  carry  to  a  climax  the 
irony  of  her  initial  gift  to  Hannah. 

Escaping  from  the  blessings  of  the  Greeners,  she  accompanied 
her  new  friend  to  Reb  ShemuePs.  She  was  shocked  to  see  the 
change  in  the  venerable  old  man;  he  looked  quite  broken  up. 
But  he  was  chivalrous  as  of  yore  :  the  vein  of  quiet  humor  was 
still  there,  though  his  voice  was  charged  with  gentle  melancholy. 
The  Rebbitzin's  nose  had  grown  sharper  than  ever ;  her  soul 
seemed  to  have  fed  on  vinegar.  Even  in  the  presence  of  a 
stranger  the  Rebbitzin  could  not  quite  conceal  her  dominant 
thought.  It  hardly  needed  a  woman  to  divine  how  it  fretted 
Mrs.  Jacobs  that  Hannah  was  an  old  maid ;  it  needed  a  woman 
like  Esther  to  divine  that  Hannah's  renunciation  was  voluntary, 
though  even  Esther  could  not  divine  her  history  nor  understand 
that  her  mother's  daily  nagging  was  the  greater  because  the 
pettier  part  of  her  martyrdom. 

They  all  jumbled  themselves  into  grotesque  combinations,  the 
things  of  to-day  and  the  things  of  endless  yesterdays,  as  Esther 
slept  in  the  narrow  little  bed  next  to  D:itch  Debby,  who  squeezed 
herself  into  the  wall,  pretending  to  revel  in  exuberant  spacious- 
ness. It  was  long  before  she  could  get  to  sleep.  The  ex- 
citement of  the  day  had  brought  on  her  headache ;  she  was 
depressed  by  restriking  the  courses  of  so  many  narrow  lives  ;  the 


490  GRANDCHILDREN   OF   THE    GHETTO. 

glow  of  her  new-found  mission  had  already  faded  in  the  thought 
that  she  was  herself  a  pauper,  and  she  wished  she  had  let  the 
dead  past  lie  in  its  halo,  not  peered  into  the  crude  face  of  reality. 
But  at  bottom  she  felt  a  subtle  melancholy  joy  in  understand- 
ing herself  at  last,  despite  Hannah's  scepticism  ;  in  penetrating 
the  secret  of  her  pessimism,  in  knowing  herself  a  Child  of  the 
Ghetto. 

And  yet  Pesach  Weingott  played  the  fiddle  merrily  enough 
when  she  went  to  Becky's  engagement-party  in  her  dreams,  and 
galoped  with  Shosshi  Shmendrik,  disregarding  the  terrible  eyes 
of  the  bride  to  be  ;  when  Hannah,  wearing  an  aureole  like  a 
bridal  veil,  paired  off  with  Meckisch,  frothing  at  the  mouth  with 
soap,  and  Mrs.  Belcovitch,  whirling  a  medicine-bottle,  went 
down  the  middle  on  a  pair  of  huge  stilts,  one  a  thick  one  and 
one  a  thin  one,  while  Malka  spun  round  like  a  teetotum,  throw- 
ing Ezekiel  in  long  clothes  through  a  hoop  ;  what  time  Aloses 
Ansell  waltzed  superbly  with  the  dazzling  Addie  Leon,  quite 
cutting  oat  Levi  and  Miriam  Hyams,  and  Raphael  awkwardly 
twisted  the  Widow  Finkelstein,  to  the  evident  delight  of  Sugar- 
man  the  Shadc/ian,  who  had  effected  the  introduction.  It  was 
wonderful  how  agile  they  all  were,  and  how  dexterously  they 
avoided  treading  on  her  brother  Benjamin,  who  lay  unconcern- 
edly in  the  centre  of  the  floor,  taking  assiduous  notes  in  a  little 
copy-book  for  incorporation  in  a  great  novel,  while  Mrs.  Henry 
Goldsmith  stooped  down  to  pat  his  brown  hair  patronizingly. 

Esther  thought  it  very  proper  of  the  grateful  Greeners  to  go 
about  offering  the  dancers  rum  from  Dutch  Debby's  tea-kettle, 
and  very  selfish  of  Sidney  to  stand  in  a  corner,  refusing  to  join 
in  the  dance  and  making  cynical  remarks  about  the  whole  thing 
for  the  amusement  of  the  earnest  little  figure  she  had  met  on 
the  stairs. 


THE  DEAD  MONKEY  AGAIN.  491 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

THE   DEAD    MONKEY    AGAIN. 

Esther  woke  early,  little  refreshed.  The  mattress  was  hard, 
and  in  her  restricted  allowance  of  space  she  had  to  deny  herself 
the  luxury  of  tossing  and  turning  lest  she  should  arouse  Debby. 
To  open  one's  eyes  on  a  new  day  is  not  pleasant  when  situa- 
tions have  to  be  faced.  Esther  felt  this  disagreeable  duty  could 
no  longer  be  shirked.  Malka"s  words  rang  in  her  ears.  How, 
indeed,  could  she  earn  a  living?  Literature  had  failed  her; 
with  journalism  she  had  no  point  of  contact  save  The  Flag  of 
yudah,  and  that  journal  was  out  of  the  question.  Teaching  — 
the  last  resort  of  the  hopeless  —  alone  remained.  Maybe  even 
in  the  Ghetto  there  were  parents  who  wanted  their  children  to 
learn  the  piano,  and  who  would  find  Esther's  mediocre  digital 
ability  good  enough.  She  might  teach  as  of  old  in  an  elemen- 
tary school.  But  she  would  not  go  back  to  her  own  —  all  the 
human  nature  in  her  revolted  at  the  thought  of  exposing  herself 
to  the  sympathy  of  her  former  colleagues.  Nothing  was  to  be 
gained  by  lying  sleepless  in  bed,  gazing  at  the  discolored  wall- 
paper and  the  forlorn  furniture.  She  slipped  out  gently  and 
dressed  herself,  the  absence  of  any  apparatus  for  a  bath  making 
her  heart  heavier  with  reminders  of  the  realities  of  poverty.  It 
was  not  easy  to  avert  her  thoughts  from  her  dainty  bedroom 
of  yesterday.  But  she  succeeded  ;  the  cheerlessness  of  the  little 
chamber  turned  her  thoughts  backwards  to  the  years  of  girl- 
hood, and  when  she  had  finished  dressing  she  almost  mechani- 
cally lit  the  fire  and  put  the  kettle  to  boil.  Her  childish  dexterity 
returned,  unimpaired  by  disuse.  When  Debby  awoke,  she  awoke 
to  a  cup  of  tea  ready  for  her  to  drink  in  bed  —  an  unprecedented 
luxury,  which  she  received  with  infinite  consternation  and 
pleasure. 

"Why,  it's  like  the  duchesses  who  have  lady's-maids,"  she 
said,  "  and  read  French  novels  before  getting  up."     To  complete 


492  GRANDCHILDREN   OF  THE    GHETTO. 

the  picture,  her  hand  dived  underneatli  the  bed  and  extracted  a 
London  Journal^  at  the  risk  of  upsetting  the  tea.  "  But  ifs  you 
who  ought  to  be  in  bed,  not  me.''"' 

"  Fve  been  a  shiggard  too  often,""  laughed  Esther,  catching 
tlie  contagion  of  good  spirits  from  Debb3''s  radiant  delight. 
Perhaps  the  capacity  for  simple  pleasures  would  come  back  to 
her,  too- 

At  breakfast  they  discussed  the  situation. 

"  I'm  afraid  the  bed's  too  small,"'  said  Esther,  when  Debby 
kindly  suggested  a  continuance  of  hospitality. 

"  Perhaps  I  took  up  too  much  room,"  said  the  hostess. 

''No,  dear;  you  took  up  too  little.  We  should  have  to  have 
a  wider  bed,  and,  as  it  is,  the  bed  is  almost  as  big  as  the  room." 

'"There's  the  back  garret  overhead!  It's  bigger,  and  it  looks 
on  the  back  yard  just  as  well.  I  wouldn't  mind  moving  there," 
said  Debby,  '*  though  I  wouldn't  let  old  Guggenheim  know  that 
I  value  the  view  of  the  back  yard,  or  else  he'd  raise  the  rent." 

"  You  forget  the  Greeners  who  moved  in  yesterday." 

"  Oh,  so  I  do!  "  answered  Debby  with  a  sigh. 

"  Strange,"  said  Esther,  musingly,  ''that  I  should  have  shut 
myself  out  of  my  old  home." 

The  postman's  knuckles  rapping  at  the  door  interrupted  her 
reflections.  In  Royal  Street  the  poor  postmen  had  to  mount  to 
each  room  separately ;  fortunately,  the  tenants  got  few  letters. 
Debby  was  intensely  surprised  to  get  one. 

"  It  isn't  for  me  at  all,"  she  cried,  at  last,  after  a  protracted 
examination  of  the  envelope  ;  "  it's  for  you,  care  of  me." 

"  But  that's  stranger  still,"  said  Esther.  "  Nobody  in  the 
world  knows  my  address." 

The  mystery  was  not  lessened  by  the  contents.  There  was 
simply  a  blank  sheet  of  paper,  and  when  this  was  unfolded  a 
half-sovereign  rolled  out.  The  postmark  was  Houndsditch. 
After  puzzling  herself  in  vain,  and  examining  at  length  the 
beautiful  copy-book  penmanship  of  the  address,  Esther  gave  up 
the  enigma.  But  it  reminded  her  that  it  would  be  advisable  to 
apprise  her  publishers  of  her  departure  from  the  old  address,  and 
to  ask  them  to  keep  any  chance  letter  till  she  called.     She  be- 


THE  DEAD  MONKEY  AGAIN.  493 

took  herself  to  their  offices,  walking.  The  day  was  bright,  but 
Esther  walked  in  gloom,  scarcely  daring  to  think  of  her  position. 
She  entered  the  office,  apathetically  hopeless.  The  junior  part- 
ner welcomed  her  heartily. 

"  I  suppose  youVe  come  about  your  account,"  he  said.  "  I 
have  been  intending  to  send  it  you  for  some  months,  but  we  are 
so  busy  bringing  out  new  things  before  the  dead  summer  season 
comes  on."  He  consulted  his  books.  "Perhaps  you  would 
rather  not  be  bothered,"  he  said,  "  with  a  formal  statement.  I 
have  it  all  clearly  here  —  the  book's  doing  fairly  well  —  let  me 
write  you  a  cheque  at  once ! " 

She  murmured  assent,  her  cheeks  blanching,  her  heart  throb- 
bing with  excitement  and  surprise. 

"There  you  are — sixty-two  pounds  ten,"  he  said.  "Our 
profits  are  just  one  hundred  and  twenty-five.  If  you'll  endorse 
it,  ril  send  a  clerk  to  the  bank  round  the  corner  and  get  it 
cashed  for  you  at  once." 

The  pen  scrawled  an  agitated  autograph  that  would  not  have 
been  accepted  at  the  foot  of  a  cheque,  if  Esther  had  had  a 
banking  account  of  her  own. 

"  But  I  thought  you  said  the  book  was  a  failure,"  she  said. 

"  So  it  was,"  he  answered  cheerfully,  "  so  it  was  at  first.  But 
gradually,  as  its  nature  leaked  out,  the  demand  increased.  I 
understand  from  Mudie's  that  it  was  greatly  asked  for  by  their 
Jewish  clients.  You  see,  when  there's  a  run  on  a  three-volume 
book,  the  profits  arc  pretty  fair.  I  believed  in  it  myself,  or  I 
should  never  have  given  you  such  good  terms  nor  printed  seven 
hundred  and  fifty  copies.  I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  we  find 
ourselves  able  to  bring  it  out  in  one-volume  form  in  the  autumn. 
We  shall  always  be  happy  to  consider  any  further  work  of  yours  ; 
something  on  the  same  lines,  I  should  recommend." 

The  recommendation  did  not  convey  any  definite  meaning  to 
her  at  the  moment.  Still  in  a  pleasant  haze,  she  stuffed  the 
twelve  five-pound  notes  and  the  three  gold-pieces  into  her  purse, 
scribbled  a  receipt,  and  departed.  Afterwards  the  recommenda- 
tion rang  mockingly  in  her  ears.  She  felt  herself  sterile,  written 
out  already.     As  for  writing  again  on  the  same  lines,  she  won- 


494  GRANDCHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

dered  what  Raphael  would  think  if  he  knew  of  the  profits  she 
had  reaped  by  bespattering  his  people.  But  there!  Raphael 
was  a  prig  like  the  rest.  It  was  no  use  worrying  about  his 
opinions.  Affluence  had  come  to  her  —  that  was  the  one  im- 
portant and  exhilarating  fact.  Besides,  had  not  the  hypocrites 
really  enjoyed  her  book?  A  new  wave  of  emotion  swept  over 
her  —  again  she  felt  strong  enough  to  defy  the  whole  world. 

When  she  got  "  home/'  Debby  said,  '•  Hannah  Jacobs  called 
to  see  you." 

^'  Oh,  indeed,  what  did  she  want  ?  " 

"  I  don't  knoAv,  but  from  something  she  said  I  believe  I  can 
guess  who  sent  the  half-sovereign." 

"Not  Reb  Shemuel?"  said  Esther,  astonished. 

"  No,  your  cousin  Malka.  It  seems  that  she  saw  Hannah 
leaving  Zachariah  Square  with  you,  and  so  went  to  her  house 
last  night  to  get  your  address." 

Esther  did  not  know  whether  to  laugh  or  be  angry ;  she  com- 
promised by  crying.  People  were  not  so  bad,  after  all,  nor  the 
fates  so  hard  to  her.  It  was  only  a  little  April  shower  of  tears, 
and  soon  she  was  smiling  and  running  upstairs  to  give  the  half- 
sovereign  to  the  G-reeners.  It  would  have  been  ungracious  to 
return  it  to  Alalka,  and  she  purchased  all  the  luxury  of  doing 
good,  including  the  effusive  benedictions  of  the  whole  family, 
on  terms  usually  obtainable  only  by  professional  almoners. 

Then  she  told  Debby  of  her  luck  with  the  publishers.  Pro- 
found was  Debby's  awe  at  the  revelation  that  Esther  was  able  to 
write  stories  equal  to  those  in  the  London  JournaL  After  that, 
Debby  gave  up  the  idea  of  Esther  living  or  sleeping  with  her ; 
she  would  as  soon  have  thought  of  ofifering  a  share  of  her  bed  to 
the  authoresses  of  the  tales  under  it.  Debby  suffered  scarce  any 
pang  when  her  one-night  companion  transferred  herself  to  Reb 
Shemuel's. 

For  it  was  to  suggest  this  that  Hannah  had  called.  The  idea 
was  her  father's  ;  it  came  to  him  when  she  told  him  of  Esther's 
strange  position.  But  Esther  said  she  was  going  to  America 
forthwith,  and  she  only  consented  on  condition  of  being  allowed 
to  pay  for  her  keep  during  her  stay.     The  haggling  was  hard, 


THE  DEAD  MONKEY  AGAIN.  495 

but  Esther  won.  Hannah  gave  up  her  room  to  Esther,  and 
removed  her  own  belongings  to  Levi's  bedroom,  which  except  at 
Festival  seasons  had  been  unused  for  years,  though  the  bed  was 
always  kept  ready  for  him.  Latterly  tlie  women  had  had  to 
make  the  bed  from  time  to  time,  and  air  the  room,  when  Reb 
Shemuel  was  at  synagogue.  Esther  sent  her  new  address  to  her 
brothers  and  sisters,  and  made  inquiries  as  to  the  prospects  of 
educated  girls  in  the  States,  hi  reply  she  learned  that  Rachel 
was  engaged  to  be  married.  Her  correspondents  were  too  taken 
up  with  this  gigantic  fact  to  pay  satisfactory  attention  to  her 
inquiries.  The  old  sense  of  protecting  motherhood  came  back 
to  Esther  when  she  learned  the  news.  Rachel  was  only  eigh- 
teen, but  at  once  Esther  felt  middle-aged.  It  seemed  of  the  fit- 
ness of  things  that  she  should  go  to  America  and  resume  her 
interrupted  maternal  duties.  Lsaac  and  Sarah  were  still  little 
more  than  children,  perhaps  they  had  not  yet  ceased  bickering 
about  their  birthdays.  She  knew  her  little  ones  would  jump  for 
joy,  and  Isaac  still  volunteer  sleeping  accommodation  in  his  new 
bed,  even  though  the  necessity  for  it  had  ceased.  She  cried 
when  she  received  the  cutting  from  the  American  Jewish  paper ; 
under  other  circumstances  she  would  have  laughed.  It  was 
one  of  a  batch  headed  "  Personals,"  and  ran :  '•  Sam  Wiseberg, 
the  handsome  young  drummer,  of  Cincinnati,  has  become  en- 
gaged to  Rachel  Ansell,  the  fair  eighteen-year-old  type-writer 
and  daughter  of  Moses  Ansell,  a  well-known  Chicago  Hebrew. 
Life's  sweetest  blessings  on  the  pair  !  The  marriage  will  take 
place  in  the  Fall.'"  Esther  dried  her  eyes  and  determined  to  be 
present  at  the  ceremony.  It  is  so  grateful  to  the  hesitant  soul 
to  be  presented  with  a  landmark.  There  was  nothing  to  be 
gained  now  by  arriving  before  the  marriage ;  nay,  her  arrival 
just  in  time  for  it  would  clench  the  festivities.  Meantime  she 
attached  herself  to  Hannah's  charitable  leading-strings,  alter- 
nately attracted  to  the  Children  of  the  Ghetto  by  their  misery, 
and  repulsed  by  their  failings.  She  seemed  to  see  them  now  in 
their  true  perspective,  correcting  the  vivid  impressions  of  child- 
hood by  the  insight  born  of  wider  knowledge  of  life.  The  accre- 
tion of  pagan  superstition  was  greater  than  she  had  recollected. 


496  GRANDCHILDREN  OF  THE    GHETTO. 

Mothers  averted  fever  by  a  murmured  charm  and  an  expectora- 
tion, children  in  new  raiment  carried  bits  of  coal  or  salt  in  their 
pockets  to  ward  off  the  evil-eye.  On  the  other  hand,  there  was 
more  resourcefulness,  more  pride  of  independence.  Her  knowl- 
edge of  Moses  Ansell  had  misled  her  into  too  sweeping  a  gener- 
alization. And  she  was  surprised  to  realize  afresh  how  much 
illogical  happiness  flourished  amid  penury,  ugliness  and  pain. 
After  school-hours  the  muggy  air  vibrated  with  the  joyous 
laughter  of  little  children,  tossing  their  shuttlecocks,  spinning 
their  tops,  turning  their  skipping-ropes,  dancing  to  barrel-organs 
or  circling  hand-in-hand  in  rings  to  the  sound  of  the  merry  tra- 
ditional chants  of  childhood.  Esther  often  purchased  a  penny- 
worth of  exquisite  pleasure  by  enriching  some  sad-eyed  urchin. 
Hannah  (whose  own  scanty  surplus  was  fortunately  augmented 
by  an  anonymous  West-End  Reform  Jew,  who  employed  her  as 
his  agent)  had  no  prepossessions  to  correct,  no  pendulum-oscilla- 
tions to  distract  her,  no  sentimental  illusions  to  sustain  her.  /She 
knew  the  Ghetto  as  it  was ;  neither  expected  gratitude  froinflTe 
poor,  nor  feared  she  might  "  pauperize  them,"'  knowing  that  the 
poor  Jew  never  exchanges  his  self-respect  for  respect  for  his 
benefactor,  but  takes  by  way  of  rightful  supplement  to  his  in- 
come. She  did  not  drive  families  into  trickery,  like  ladies  of  the 
West,  by  being  horrified  to  find  them  eating  meat.  If  she  pre- 
sided at  a  stall  at  a  charitable  sale  of  clothing,  she  was  not  dis- 
heartened if  articles  were  snatched  from  under  her  hand,  nor  did 
she  refuse  loans  because  borrowers  sometimes  merely  used  them 
to  evade  the  tallyman  by  getting  their  jewelry  at  cash  prices. 
She  not  only  gave  alms  to  the  poor,  but  made  them  givers,  or- 
ganizing their  own  farthings  into  a  powerful  auxiliary  of  the  insti- 
tutions which  helped  them.  Hannah's  sweet  patience  soothed 
Esther,  who  had  no  natural  aptitude  for  personal  philanthrop^j^ 
the  primitive,  ordered  pieties  of  the  Reb^s  household  helping  to 
give  her  calm.  Though  she  accepted  tlie  inevitable,  and  had 
laughed  in  melancholy  mockery  at  the  exaggerated  importance 
given  to  love  by  the  novelists  (including  her  cruder  self),  she 
dreaded  meeting  Raphael  Leon.  It  was  very  unlikely  her  where- 
abouts would  penetrate  to  the  West ;  and  she  rarely  went  out- 


SIDNEY  SETTLES  DOWN.  497 

side  of  the  Ghetto  by  day,  or  even  walked  within  it  in  the 
evening.  In  the  twilight,  unless  prostrated  by  headache,  she 
played  on  Hannah's  disused  old-fashioned  grand  piano.  It  had 
one  cracked  note  which  nearly  always  spoiled  the  melody ;  she 
would  not  have  the  note  repaired,  taking  a  morbid  pleasure  in  a 
fantastic  analogy  between  the  instrument  and  herself.  On  Fri- 
day nights  after  the  Sabbath-hymns  she  read  The  Flag  of  Judah. 
She  was  not  surprised  to  find  Reb  Shemuel  beginning  to  look 
askance  at  his  favorite  paper.  She  noted  a  growing  tendency 
in  it  to  insist  mainly  on  the  ethical  side  of  Judaism,  salvation 
by  works  being  contrasted  with  the  salvation  by  spasm  of  popu- 
lar Christianity.  Once  Kingsley's  line,  "  Do  noble  things,  not 
dream  them  all  day  long,"  was  put  forth  as  "  Judaism  versus 
Christianity  in  a  nut-shell ; "  and  the  writer  added,  "  for  so 
thy  dreams  shall  become  noble,  too."  Sometimes  she  fancied 
phrases  and  lines  of  argument  were  aimed  at  her.  Was  it  the 
editor's  way  of  keeping  in  touch  with  her,  using  his  leaders  as  a 
medium  of  communication  —  a  subtly  sweet  secret  known  only 
to  him  and  her?  Was  it  fair  to  his  readers?  Then  she  would 
remember  his  joke  about  the  paper  being  started  merely  to  con- 
vert her,  and  she  would  laugh.  Sometimes  he  repeated  what  he 
already  said  to  her  privately,  so  that  she  seemed  to  hear  him 
talking. 

Then  she  would  shake  her  head,  and  say,  "  I  love  you  for  your 
blindness,  but  I  have  the  terrible  gift  of  vision." 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

SIDNEY   SETTLES   DOWN. 

Mrs.  Henry  Goldsmith's  newest  seaside  resort  had  the 
artistic  charm  which  characterized  everything  she  selected.  It 
was  a  straggling,  hilly,  leafy  village,  full  of  archaic  relics  —  hu- 
man as  well  as  architectural  —  sloping  down  to  a  gracefully 
curved  bay,  where  the  blue  waves  broke  in  whispers,  for  on 
summer  days  a  halcyon  calm  overhung  this  magic  spot,  and  the 

2  K 


498  GRANDCHILDREN   OF   THE    GHETTO. 

great  sea  stretched  away,  unwrinkled,  ever  young.  There  were 
no  neutral  tones  in  the  colors  of  this  divine  picture  —  the  sea 
was  sapphire,  the  sky  amethyst.  There  were  dark-red  houses 
nestling  amid  foliage,  and  green-haired  monsters  of  gray  stone 
squatted  about  on  the  yellow  sand,  which  was  strewn  with  quaint 
shells  and  mimic  earth-worms,  cunningly  wrought  by  the  waves. 
Half  a  mile  to  the  east  a  blue  river  rippled  into  the  bay.  The 
white  bathing  tents  which  Mrs.  Goldsmith  had  pitched  stood 
out  picturesquely,  in  harmonious  contrast  with  the  rich  boscage 
that  began  to  climb  the  hills  in  the  background. 

Mrs.  Goldsmith's  party  lived  in  the  Manse;  it  was  pretty 
numerous,  and  gradually  overflowed  into  the  bedrooms  of  the 
neighboring  cottages.  Mr.  Goldsmith  only  came  down  on  Sat- 
urday, returning  on  Monday.  One  Friday  Mr.  Percy  Saville, 
who  had  been  staying  for  the  week,  left  suddenly  for  London, 
and  next  day  the  beautiful  hostess  poured  into  her  husband's 
projecting  ears  a  tale  that  made  him  gnash  his  projecting  teeth, 
and  cut  the  handsome  stockbroker  off  his  visiting-list  for  ever. 
It  was  only  an  indiscreet  word  that  the  susceptible  stockbroker 
had  spoken  —  under  the  poetic  influences  of  the  scene.  His 
bedroom  came  in  handy,  for  Sidney  unexpectedly  dropped  down 
from  Norway,  via  London,  on  the  very  Friday.  The  poetic  in- 
fluences of  the  scene  soon  infected  the  newcomer,  t6o.  On  the 
Saturday  he  was  lost  for  hours,  and  came  up  smiling,  with  Addie 
on  his  arm.  On  the  Sunday  afternoon  the  party  went  boating 
up  the  river — a  picturesque  medley  of  flannels  and  parasols. 
Once  landed,  Sidney  and  Addie  did  not  return  for  tea,  prior  to 
re-embarking.  While  Mr.  Montagu  Samuels  was  gallantly  hand- 
ing round  the  sugar,  they  were  sitting  somewhere  along  the 
bank,  half  covered  with  leaves,  like  babes  in  the  wood.  The 
sunset  burned  behind  the  willows  —  a  fiery  rhapsody  of  crimson 
and  orange.  The  gay  laughter  of  the  picnic-party  just  reached 
their  ears ;  otherwise,  an  almost  solemn  calm  prevailed  —  not  a 
bird  twittered,  not  a  leaf  stirred. 

^'  It'll  be  all  over  London  to-morrow,''  said  Sidney  in  a  de- 
spondent tone. 

''  I'm  afraid  so,"  said  Addie,  with  a  delicious  laugh. 


SIDNEY  SETTLES  DOWN.  499 

The  sweet  English  meadows  over  which  her  humid  eyes  wan- 
dered were  studded  with  simple  wild-flowers.  Addie  vaguely 
felt  the  angels  had  planted  such  in  Eden.  Sidney  could  not 
take  his  eyes  off"  his  terrestrial  angel  clad  in  appropriate  white. 
Confessed  love  had  given  the  last  touch  to  her  intoxicating 
beauty.  She  gratified  his  artistic  sense  almost  completely.  But 
she  seemed  to  satisfy  deeper  instincts,  too.  As  he  looked  into 
her  limpid,  trustful  eyes,  he  felt  he  had  been  a  weak  fool.  An 
irresistible  yearning  to  tell  her  all  his  past  and  crave  forgiveness 
swept  over  him. 

"  Addie/'  he  said,  "  isn't  it  funny  I  should  be  marrying  a 
Jewish  girl,  after  all?" 

He  wanted  to  work  round  to  it  like  that,  to  tell  her  of  his 
engagement  to  Miss  Hannibal  at  least,  and  how,  on  discovering 
with  whom  he  was  really  in  love,  he  had  got  out  of  it  simply 
by  writing  to  the  Wesleyan  M.  P.  that  he  was  a  Jew  —  a  fact 
sufficient  to  disgust  the  disciple  of  Dissent  and  the  claimant 
champion  of  religious  liberty.  But  Addie  only  smiled  at  the 
question. 

"  You  smile,"  he  said :  "  I  see  you  do  think  it  funny." 

"  That's  not  why  I  am  smiling." 

"Then  why  are  you  smiling?"  The  lovely  face  piqued  him; 
he  kissed  the  lips  quickly  with  a  bird-like  peck. 

"  Oh  —  I  —  no,  you  wouldn't  understand." 

"That  means  _y(?/^  don't  understand.  But  there!  I  suppose 
when  a  girl  is  in  love,  she's  not  accountable  for  her  expression. 
All  the  same,  it  is  strange.  You  know,  Addie  dear,  I  have  come 
to  the  conclusion  that  Judaism  exercises  a  strange  centrifugal 
and  centripetal  effect  on  its  sons  —  sometimes  it  repulses  them, 
sometimes  it  draws  them ;  only  it  never  leaves  them  neutral. 
Now,  here  had  I  deliberately  made  up  my  mind  not  to  marry  a 
Jewess." 

"  Oh!     Why  not?  "  said  Addie,  pouting. 

"  Merely  because  she  would  be  a  Jewess.     It's  a  fact." 

"And  why  have  you  broken  your  resolution?"  she  said,  look- 
ing up  naively  into  his  face,  so  that  the  scent  of  her  hair  thrilled 
him. 


500  GRANDCHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  said  frankly,  scarcely  giving  the  answer 
to  be  expected.  "  C est  plus  fort  que  moi.  IVe  struggled  hard, 
but  Tm  beaten.  Isn't  there  something  of  the  kind  in  Esther  — 
in  Miss  AnselPs  book?  I  know  I've  read  it  somewhere — and 
anything  that's  beastly  subtle  I  always  connect  with  her." 

"  Poor  Esther!"  murmured  Addie. 

Sidney  patted  her  soft  warm  hand,  and  smoothed  the  finely- 
curved  arm,  and  did  not  seem  disposed  to  let  the  shadow  of 
Esther  mar  the  moment,  though  he  would  ever  remain  grateful 
to  her  for  the  hint  which  had  simultaneously  opened  his  eyes  to 
Addie's  aflfection  for  him,  and  to  his  own  answering  affection  so 
imperceptibly  grown  up.  The  river  glided  on  softly,  glorified  by 
the  sunset. 

"  It  makes  one  believe  in  a  dogged  destiny,"  he  grumbled, 
"shaping  the  ends  of  the  race,  and  keeping  it  together,  despite 
all  human  volition.  To  think  that  I  should  be  doomed  to  fall 
in  love,  not  only  with  a  Jewess  but  with  a  pious  Jewess!  But 
clever  men  always  fall  in  love  with  conventional  women.  I 
wonder  what  makes  you  so  conventional,  Addie." 

Addie,  still  smiling,  pressed  his  hand  in  silence,  and  gazed  at 
him  in  fond  admiration. 

"Ah,  well,  since  you  are  so  conventional,  you  may  as  well 
kiss  me." 

Addie's  blush  deepened,  her  eyes  sparkled  ere  she  lowered 
them,  and  subtly  fascinating  waves  of  expression  passed  across 
the  lovely  face. 

"They'll  be  wondering  what  on  earth  has  become  of  us,"  she 
said. 

"It  shall  be  nothing  on  earth — something  in  heaven,"  he 
answered.     "  Kiss  me,  or  I  shall  call  you  unconventional." 

She  touched  his  cheek  hurriedly  with  her  soft  lips. 

"  A  very  crude  and  amateur  kiss,"  he  said  critically.  "  How- 
ever, after  all,  I  have  an  excuse  for  marrying  you  —  which  all 
clever  Jews  who  marry  conventional  Jewesses  haven't  got  — 
you're  a  fine  model.  That  is  another  of  the  many  advantages  of 
my  profession.  I  suppose  you"ll  l)e  a  model  wife,  in  the  ordi- 
nary sense,  too.     Do  you  know,  my  darling,  I  begin  to  under- 


SIDNEY  SETTLES  DOWN.  501 

stand  that  I  could  not  love  you  so  much  if  you  were  not  so 
religious,  if  you  were  not  so  curiously  like  a  Festival  Prayer- 
Book,  with  gilt  edges  and  a  beautiful  binding." 

"Ah,  I  am  so  glad,  dear,  to  hear  you  say  that,"  said  Addie, 
with  the  faintest  suspicion  of  implied  past  disapproval. 

"  Yes,"  he  said  musingly.  "  It  adds  the  last  artistic  touch  to 
your  relation  to  me." 

"  But  you  will  reform!  "  said  Addie,  with  girlish  confidence. 

"Do  you  think  so?  I  might  commence  by  becoming  a  vege- 
tarian—  that  would  prevent  me  eating  forbidden  flesh.  Have 
I  ever  told  you  my  idea  that  vegetarianism  is  the  first  step  in  a 
great  secret  conspiracy  for  gradually  converting  the  world  to 
Judaism?  But  Fm  afraid  I  can't  be  caught  as  easily  as  the 
Gentiles,  Addie  dear.  You  see,  a  Jewish  sceptic  beats  all 
others.  Corruptio  optiDii  pessinia,  probably.  Perhaps  you 
would  like  me  to  marry  in  a  synagogue?" 

"  Why,  of  course !     Where  else  ?  " 

"Heavens!"  said  Sidney,  in  comic  despair.  "I  feared  it 
would  come  to  that.  I  shall  become  a  pillar  of  the  synagogue 
when  I  am  married,  I  suppose." 

"Well,  you'll  have  to  take  a  seat,"  said  Addie  seriously, 
"  because  otherwise  you  can't  get  buried." 

"Gracious,  what  ghoulish  thoughts  for  an  embryo  bride! 
Personally,  I  have  no  objection  to  haunting  the  Council  of 
the  United  Synagogue  till  they  give  me  a  decently  comfortable 
grave.  But  I  see  what  it  will  be!  I  shall  be  whitewashed  by 
the  Jewish  press,  eulogized  by  platform  orators  as  a  shining 
light  in  Israel,  the  brilliant  impressionist  painter,  and  all  that. 
I  shall  pay  my  synagogue  bill  and  never  go.  In  short,  I  shall  be 
converted  to  Philistinism,  and  die  in  the  odor  of  respectability. 
And  Judaism  Avill  continue  to  flourish.  Oh,  Addie,  Addie,  if 
I  had  thought  of  all  that,  I  should  never  have  asked  you  to  be 
my  wife." 

"  I  am  glad  you  didn't  think  of  it,"  laughed  Addie,  ingenuously. 

"There!  You  never  will  take  me  seriously!"  he  grumbled. 
"  Nobody  ever  takes  me  seriously — I  suppose  because  I  speak 
the  truth.     The  only  time  you  ever  took  me  seriously  in  my  life 


502  GRANDCHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

was  a  few  minutes  ago.  So  you  actually  think  Fm  going  to  sub- 
mit to  the  benedictions  of  a  Rabbi." 

"  You  must/'  said  Addie. 

"  ni  be  blest  if  I  do/'  he  said. 

''  Of  course  you  will/''  said  Addie,  laughing  merrily. 

"  Thanks  —  Fm  glad  you  appreciate  my  joke.  You  perhaps 
fancy  it's  yours.  However,  Fm  in  earnest.  I  won't  be  a  respect- 
able high-hatted  member  of  the  community  —  not  even  for  your 
sake,  dear.  Why,  I  might  as  well  go  back  to  my  ugly  real  name, 
Samuel  Abrahams,  at  once." 

"  So  you  might,  dear,"  said  Addie  boldly,  and  smiled  into  "his 
eyes  to  temper  her  audacity. 

"  Ah,  well,  I  think  it'll  be  quite  enough  if  yoii  change  your 
name,"  he  said,  smiling  back. 

'^  It's  just  as  easy  for  me  to  change  it  to  Abrahams  as  to  Gra- 
ham," she  said  with  charming  obstinacy. 

He  contemplated  her  for  some  moments  in  silence,  with  a 
whimsical  look  on  his  face.  Then  he  looked  up  at  the  sky  —  the 
brilliant  color  harmonies  were  deepening  into  a  more  sober  mag- 
nificence. 

"  Fll  tell  you  what  I  will  do.  I'll  join  the  Asmoneans.  There  ! 
that's  a  great  concession  to  your  absurd  prejudices.  But  you 
must  make  a  concession  to  mine.  You  know  how  I  hate  the 
Jewish  canvassing  of  engagements.  Let  us  keep  ours  entirely 
entre  noits  a  fortnight  —  so  that  the  gossips  shall  at  least  get  their 
material  stale,  Jtnd  we  shall  be  hardened.  I  wonder  why  you're 
so  conventional,"  he  said  again,  when  she  had  consented  without 
enthusiasm.  "You  had  the  advantage  of  Esther — of  Miss 
Ansell's  society." 

"Call  her  Esther  if  you  like;  /  don't  mind,"  said  Addie. 

"  I  wonder  Esther  didn't  convert  you,"  he  went  on  musingly. 
"  But  I  suppose  you  had  Raphael  on  your  right  hand,  as  some 
prayer  or  other  says.  And  so  you  really  don't  know  what's  be- 
come of  her?" 

"Nothing  beyond  what  I  wrote  to  you.  Mrs.  Goldsmith  dis- 
covered she  had  written  the  nasty  book,  and  sent  her  packing. 
I  have  never  liked  to  broach  the  subject  myself  to  Mrs.  Gold- 


SIDNEY  SETTLES  DOWN.  503 

smith,  knowing  how  unpleasant  it  must  be  to  her.  Raphael's 
version  is  that  Esther  went  away  of  her  own  accord;  but  I  can't 
see  what  grounds  he  has  for  judging." 

"  I  would  rather  trust  Raphael's  version/'  said  Sidney,  with  an 
adumbration  of  a  wdnk  in  his  left  eyelid.  '^  But  didn't  you  look 
for  her?  " 

"Where?  If  she's  in  London,  she's  swallowed  up.  If  she's 
gone  to  another  place,  it's  still  more  difficult  to  find  her." 

"  There's  the  Agony  Column  !  " 

"  If  Esther  wanted  us  to  know  her  address,  what  can  prevent 
her  sending  it?  "  asked  Addie,  with  dignity. 

"  I'd  find  her  soon  enough,  if  I  wanted  to,"  murmured  Sidney. 

"Yes;  but  I'm  not  sure  we  want  to.  After  all,  she  cannot  be 
so  nice  as  I  thought.  She  certainly  behaved  very  ungratefully 
to  Mrs.  Goldsmith.     You  see  what  becomes  of  wild  opinions." 

"Addie!  Addie! ''  said  Sidney  reproachfully,  "how  can  you  be 
so  conventional? " 

"I'm  not  conventional!"  protested  Addie,  provoked  at  last. 
"I  always  liked  Esther  very  much.  Even  now,  nothing  would 
give  me  greater  pleasure  than  to  have  her  for  a  bridesmaid. 
But  I  can't  help  feeling  she  deceived  us  all." 

"  Stuff  and  nonsense  ! "  said  Sidney  warmly.  "An  author  has 
a  right  to  be  anonymous.  Don't  you  think  I'd  paint  anony- 
mously if  I  dared?  Only,  if  I  didn't  put  my  name  to  my  things 
no  one  would  buy  them.  That's  another  of  the  advantages  of 
my  profession.  Once  make  your  nanie  as  an  artist,  and  you  can 
get  a  colossal  income  by  giving  up  art." 

"  It  was  a  vulgar  book!  "  persisted  Addie,  sticking  to  the  point. 

"Fiddlesticks!     It  was  an  artistic  book — bungled." 

"Oh,  wtII!"  said  Addie,  as  the  tears  welled  from  her  eyes, 
"if  you're  so  fond  of  unconventional  girls,  you'd  better  marry 
them." 

"  I  would,"  said  Sidney,  "  but  for  the  absurd  restriction  against 
polygamy." 

Addie  got  up  with  an  indignant  jerk.  "  You  think  I'm  a  child 
to  be  played  wdth !  " 

She  turned  her  back  upon  him.     His  face  changed  instantly; 


504  GRANDCHILDREN   OF   THE    GHETTO. 

he  stood  still  a  moment,  admiring  the  magnificent  pose.  Then 
he  recaptured  her  reluctant  hand. 

"  Don't  be  jealous  already,  Addie,"  he  said.  "  It's  a  healthy 
sign  of  affection,  is  a  storm-cloud,  but  don't  you  think  it's  just  a 
wee,  tiny,  weeny  bit  too  previous?" 

A  pressure  of  the  hand  accompanied  each  of  the  little  ad- 
jectives. Addie  sat  down  again,  feeling  deliciously  happy.  She 
seemed  to  be  lapped  in  a  great  drowsy  ecstasy  of  bliss. 

The  sunset  was  fading  into  sombre  grays  before  Sidney  broke 
the  silence  ;  then  his  train  of  thought  revealed  itself. 

"  If  you're  so  down  on  Esther,  I  wonder  how  you  can  put  up 
with  me!     How  is  it?" 

Addie  did  not  hear  the  question. 

^' You  think  Tm  a  very  wicked,  blasphemous  boy,"  he  insisted. 
"  Isn't  that  the  thought  deep  down  in  your  heart  of  hearts? " 

"  I'm  sure  tea  must  be  over  long  ago,"  said  Addie  anxiously. 

"Answer  me,"  said  Sidney  inexorably. 

"  Don't  bother.     Aren't  they  cooeying  for  us?  " 

"  Answer  me." 

"I  do  believe  that  was  a  water-rat.  Look!  the  water  is  still 
eddying." 

"  I'm  a  very  wicked,  blasphemous  boy.  Isn't  that  the  thought 
deep  down  in  your  heart  of  hearts?" 

"  You  are  there,  too,"  she  breathed  at  last,  and  then  Sidney 
forsrot  her  beautv  for  an  instant,  and  lost  himself  in  unaccus- 
tomed  humility.  It  seemed  passing  wonderful  to  him  —  that  he 
should  be  the  deity  of  such  a  spotless  shrine.  Could  any  man 
deserve  the  trust  of  this  celestial  soul? 

Suddenly  the  thought  that  he  had  not  told  her  about  Miss 
Hannibal  after  all,  gave  him  a  chilling  shock.  But  he  rallied 
quickly.  Was  it  really  worth  while  to  trouble  the  clear  depths 
of  her  spirit  with  his  turbid  past?  No  ;  wiser  to  inhale  the  odor 
of  the  rose  at  her  bosom,  sweeter  to  surrender  himself  to  the 
intoxicating  perfume  of  her  personality,  to  the  magic  of  a  moment 
that  must  fade  like  the  sunset,  already  grown  gray. 

So  Addie  never  knew. 


FROM  SOUL    TO   SOUL.  505 

CHAPTER   XV. 

FROM   SOUL   TO   SOUL. 

On  the  Friday  that  Percy  Saville  returned  to  town,  Raphael, 
in  a  state  of  mental  prostration  modified  by  tobacco,  was  sitting 
in  the  editorial  chair.  He  was  engaged  in  his  pleasing  weekly 
occupation  of  discovering,  from  a  comparison  with  the  great 
rival  organ,  the  deficiencies  of  Tlie  Flag  of  Jjidah  in  the  matter 
of  news,  his  organization  for  the  collection  of  which  partook  of 
the  happy-go-lucky  character  of  little  Sampson.  Fortunately, 
to-day  there  were  no  flagrant  omissions,  no  palpable  short- 
comings such  as  had  once  and  again  thrown  the  office  of  the 
Flag  into  mourning  when  communal  pillars  were  found  dead  in 
the  opposition  paper. 

The  arrival  of  a  visitor  put  an  end  to  the  invidious  comparison. 

"  Ah,  Strelitski!  "  cried  Raphael,  jumping  up  in  glad  surprise. 
^^What  an  age  it  is  since  I've  seen  you!"  He  shook  the  black- 
gloved  hand  of  the  fashionable  minister  heartily  ;  then  his  face 
grew  rueful  with  a  sudden  recollection.  "  I  suppose  you  have 
come  to  scold  me  for  not  answering  the  invitation  to  speak  at 
the  distribution  of  prizes  to  your  religion  class?"  he  said;  "but 
I  have  been  so  busy.  My  conscience  has  kept  up  a  dull  pricking 
on  the  subject,  though,  for  ever  so  many  weeks.  YouVe  such  an 
epitome  of  all  the  virtues  that  you  can't  understand  the  sensation, 
and  even  I  can't  understand  why  one  submits  to  this  undercur- 
rent of  reproach  rather  than  take  the  simple  step  it  exhorts  one 
to.  But  I  suppose  it's  human  nature."  Fie  puffed  at  his  pipe  in 
humorous  sadness. 

"  I  suppose  it  is,"  said  Strelitski  wearily. 

"But  of  course  FU  come.  You  know  that,  my  dear  fellow. 
When  my  conscience  was  noisy,  the  advocatiis  diaboli  used  to 
silence  it  by  saying,  ^Oh,  Strelitski'll  take  it  for  granted.'  You 
can  never  catch  the  advocatiis  diaboli  asleep,"  concluded  Raphael, 
lauofhinof. 


506  GRANDCHILDREN   OF  THE    GHETTO. 

"No,"  assented  Strelitski.     But  he  did  not  laugh. 

"  Oh!  "  said  Raphael,  his  laugh  ceasing  suddenly  and  his  face 
growing  long.     "  Perhaps  the  prize-distribution  is  over?  " 

Strelitski's  expression  seemed  so  stern  that  for  a  second  it  really 
occurred  to  Raphael  that  he  might  have  missed  the  great  event. 
But  before  the  words  were  well  out  of  his  mouth  he  remembered 
that  it  was  an  event  that  made  "  copy,''  and  little  Sampson  would 
have  arranged  with  him  as  to  the  reporting  thereof. 

"No;  ifs  Sunday  week.  But  I  didn't  come  to  talk  about  my 
religion  class  at  all,"  he  said  pettishly,  while  a  shudder  traversed 
his  form.  "  I  came  to  ask  if  you  know  anything  about  Miss 
Ansell." 

Raphael's  heart  stood  still,  then  began  to  beat  furiously.  The 
sound  of  her  name  always  affected  him  incomprehensibly.  He 
began  to  stammer,  then  took  his  pipe  out  of  his  mouth  and  said 
more  calmly : 

"  How  should  I  know  anything  about  Miss  Ansell?" 

"  I  thought  you  would,"  said  Strelitski,  without  much  disap- 
pointment in  his  tone. 

"  Why  ? " 

"  Wasn't  she  your  art-critic?" 

"  Who  told  you  that  ?  " 
.   "Mrs.  Henry  Goldsmith." 

"Oh!"  said  Raphael. 

"  I  thought  she  might  possibly  be  writing  for  you  still,  and  so, 
as  I  was  passing,  I  thought  Fd  drop  in  and  inquire.  Hasn't 
anything  been  heard  of  her?  Where  is  she?  Perhaps  one  could 
help  her." 

"  I'm  sorry,  I  really  know  nothing,  nothing  at  all,"  said  Ra- 
phael gravely.  "  I  wish  I  did.  Is  there  any  particular  reason 
why  you  want  to  know  ?  " 

As  he  spoke,  a  strange  suspicion  that  was  half  an  apprehen- 
sion came  into  his  head.  He  had  been  looking  the  whole  time 
at  Strelitski's  face  with  his  usual  unobservant  gaze,  just  seeing  it 
was  gloomy.  Now,  as  in  a  sudden  flash,  he  saw  it  sallow  and 
careworn  to  the  last  degree.  The  eyes  were  almost  feverish,  the 
black  curl  on  the  brow  was  unkempt,  and  there  was  a  streak  or 


FROM  SOUL    TO   SOUL.  507 

two  of  gray  easily  visible  against  the  intense  sable.  What 
change  had  come  over  him?  Why  this  new-born  interest  in 
Esther?  Raphael  felt  a  vague  unreasoning  resentment  rising  in 
him,  mingled  with  distress  at  Strelitski's  discomposure. 

"  No ;  I  don't  know  that  there  is  any  particular  reason  why 
I  want  to  know,"  answered  his  friend  slowly.  "  She  was  a  mem- 
ber of  my  congregation.  I  always  had  a  certain  interest  in  her, 
which  has  naturally  not  been  diminished  by  her  sudden  depart- 
ure from  our  midst,  and  by  the  knowledge  that  she  was  the 
author  of  that  sensational  novel.  I  think  it  was  cruel  of  Mrs. 
Henry  Goldsmith  to  turn  her  adrift ;  one  must  allow  for  the 
effervescence  of  genius.'" 

"Who  told  you  Mrs.  Henry  Goldsmith  turned  her  adrift?" 
asked  Raphael  hotly. 

"  Mrs.  Henry  Goldsmith,"  said  Strelitski  with  a  slight  accent 
of  wonder. 

"Then  it's  a  lie!  "  Raphael  exclaimed,  thrusting  out  his  arms 
in  intense  agitation.  "A  mean,  cowardly  lie!  I  shall  never  go 
to  see  that  woman  again,  unless  it  is  to  let  her  know  what  I 
think  of  her." 

"Ah,  then  you  do  know  something  about  Miss  Ansell?  "  said 
Strelitski,  with  growing  surprise.  Raphael  in  a  rage  was  a  new 
experience.  There  were  those  who  asserted  that  anger  was  not 
among  his  gifts. 

"Nothing  about  her  life  since  she  left  Mrs.  Goldsmith  ;  but  I 
saw  her  before,  and  she  told  me  it  was  her  intention  to  cut  her- 
self adrift.  Nobody  knew  about  her  authorship  of  the  book ; 
nobody  would  have  known  to  this  day  if  she  had  not  chosen  to 
reveal  it." 

The  minister  was  trembling. 

"  She  cut  herself  adrift  ?  "  he  repeated  interrogatively.  "But 
why?" 

"I  will  tell  you,"  said  Raphael  in  low  tones.     "I  don't  think 
it  will  be  betraying  her  confidence  to  say  that  she  found  her  posi-  . 
tion  of  dependence  extremely  irksome  ;  it  seemed  to  cripple  her 
soul.     Now  I  see  what  Mrs.  Goldsmith  is,  I  can  understand  bet- 
ter what  life  in  her  society  meant  for  a  girl  like  that." 


508  GRANDCHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

"  And  what  has  become  of  her?  '^  asked  the  Russian.  His  face 
was  agitated,  the  hps  were  ahnost  white. 

"  I  do  not  know/^  said  Raphael,  ahnost  in  a  whisper,  his  voice 
failing  in  a  sudden  upwelling  of  tumultuous  feeling.  The  ever- 
whirling  wheel  of  journalism  —  that  modern  realization  of  the 
labor  of  Sisyphus  —  had  carried  him  round  without  giving  him 
even  time  to  remember  that  time  was  flying.  Day  had  slipped 
into  week  and  week  into  month,  without  his  moving  an  inch 
from  his  groove  in  search  of  the  girl  whose  unhappiness  was  yet 
always  at  the  back  of  his  thoughts.  Now  he  was  shaken  with 
astonished  self-reproach  at  his  having  allowed  her  to  drift  per- 
haps irretrievably  beyond  his  ken. 

"  She  is  quite  alone  in  the  world,  poor  thing!  "  he  said  after  a 
pause.  "  She  must  be  earning  her  own  living,  somehow.  By 
journalism,  perhaps.  But  she  prefers  to  live  her  own  life.  I  am 
afraid  it  will  be  a  hard  one."  His  voice  trembled  again.  The 
minister's  breast,  too,  was  laboring  with  emotion  that  checked 
his  speech,  but  after  a  moment  utterance  came  to  him  —  a  strange 
choked  utterance,  almost  blasphemous  from  those  clerical  lips. 

"  By  God !  "  he  gasped.     "  That  little  girl !  " 

He  turned  his  back  upon  his  friend  and  covered  his  face  with 
his  hands,  and  Raphael  saw  his  shoulders  quivering.  Then  his 
own  vision  grew  dim.  Conjecture,  resentment,  wonder,  self-re- 
proach, were  lost  in  a  new  and  absorbing  sense  of  the  pathos  of 
the  poor  girl's  position. 

Presently  the  minister  turned  round,  showing  a  face  that  made 
no  pretence  of  calm. 

''  That  was  bravely  done,"  he  said  brokenly.  ''  To  cut  herself 
adrift!  She  will  not  sink;  strength  will  be  given  her  even  as 
she  gives  others  strength.  If  I  could  only  see  her  and  tell  her! 
But  she  never  liked  me ;  she  alwa\s  distrusted  me.  I  was  a 
hollow  windbag  in  her  eyes  —  a  thing  of  shams  and  cant  —  she 
shuddered  to  look  at  me.  Was  it  not  so?  You  are  a  friend  of 
hers,  you  know  what  she  felt." 

"  I  don't  think  it  was  you  she  disliked,"  said  Raphael  in  won- 
dering pity.     "Only  your  ofifice." 

"Then,  by  God,  she  was  right!"  cried  the  Russian  hoarsely 


FROM  SOUL    TO   SOUL.  509 

"It  was  this—  this  that  made  me  the  target  of  her  scorn."  He 
tore  ofif  his  white  tie  madly  as  he  spoke,  threw  it  on  the 
ground,  and  trampled  upon  it.  "  She  and  I  were  kindred  in  suf- 
fering; I  read  it  in  her  eyes,  averted  as  they  were  at  the  sight  of 
this  accursed  thing!  You  stare  at  me  —  you  think  I  have  gone 
mad.  Leon,  you  are  not  as  other  men.  Can  you  not  guess  that 
this  damnable  white  tie  has  been  choking  the  life  and  manhood 
out  of  me?  But  it  is  over  now.  Take  your  pen,  Leon,  as  you 
are  my  friend,  and  write  what  I  shall  dictate." 

Silenced  by  the  stress  of  a  great  soul,  half  dazed  by  the 
strange,  unexpected  revelation,  Raphael  seated  himself,  took  his 
pen,  and  wrote : 

"  We  understand  that  the  Rev.  Joseph  Strelitski  has  resigned 
his  position  in  the  Kensington  Synagogue." 

Not  till  he  had  written  it  did  the  full  force  of  the  paragraph 
overwhelm  his  soul. 

"  But  you  will  not  do  this  ? "  he  said,  looking  up  almost  in- 
credulously at  the  popular  minister. 

"I  will;  the  position  has  become  impossible.  Leon,  do  you 
not  understand?  I  am  not  what  I  was  when  I  took  it.  I  have 
lived,  and  life  is  change.  Stagnation  is  death.  Surely  you  can 
understand,  for  you,  too,  have  changed.  Cannot  I  read  between 
the  lines  of  your  leaders  ? " 

"Cannot  you  read  in  them?"  said  Raphael  with  a  wan  smile. 
"  I  have  modified  some  opinions,  it  is  true,  and  developed  others  ; 
but  I  have  disguised  none." 

"  Not  consciously,  perhaps,  but  you  do  not  speak  all  your 
thought." 

"Perhaps  I  do  not  listen  to  it,"  said  Raphael,  half  to  himself. 
"  But  you  —  whatever  your  change  —  you  have  not  lost  faith  in 
primaries?" 

"  No  ;  not  in  what  I  consider  such." 

"  Then  why  give  up  your  platform,  your  housetop,  whence  you 
may  do  so  much  good?     You  are  loved,  venerated." 

Strelitski  placed  his  palms  over  his  ears. 

"Don^t!  don't!"  he  cried.  "Don't  you  be  the  aduocatus 
diabolil     Do  you  think  I  have  not  told  myself  all  these  things 


510  GRANDCHILDREN   OF  THE    GHETTO. 

a  thousand  times  ?  Do  you  think  I  have  not  tried  every  kind 
of  opiate?  No,  no,  be  silent  if  you  can  say  nothing  to 
strengthen  me  in  my  resolution  ;  am  I  not  weak  enough  already? 
Promise  me,  give  me  your  hand,  swear  to  me  that  you  will  put 
that  paragraph  in  the  paper.  Saturday,  Sunday,  Monday,  Tues- 
day, Wednesday,  Thursday  —  in  six  days  I  shall  change  a  hun- 
dred times.  Swear  to  me,  so  that  I  may  leave  this  room  at 
peace,  the  long  conflict  ended.  Promise  me  you  will  insert  it, 
though  I  myself  should  ask  you  to  cancel  it." 

"  But  —  ■"  began  Raphael. 

Strelitski  turned  away  impatiently  and  groaned. 

''My  God!"  he  cried  hoarsely.  "Leon,  listen  to  me/'  he 
said,  turning  round  suddenly.  "  Do  you  realize  what  sort  of  a 
position  you  are  asking  me  to  keep?  Do  you  realize  how  it 
makes  me  the  fief  of  a  Rabbinate  that  is  an  anachronism,  the 
bondman  of  outworn  forms,  the  slave  of  the  SJiulcan  Ariich 
(a  book  the  Rabbinate  would  not  dare.^Dublish  in  English),  the 
professional  panegyrist  of  the  rich  ?  v^Oyrs  is  a  generation  of 
whited  sepulchres."  He  had  no  difficulty  about  utterance  now; 
the  words  flowed  in  a  torrent.  "How  can  Judaism — and  it 
alone  —  escape  going  through  the  fire  of  modern  scepticism, 
from  which,  if  religion  emerge  at  all,  it  will  emerge  without  its 
dross?  Are  not  we  Jews  always  the  first  prey  of  new  ideas, 
wdth  our  alert  intellect,  our  swift  receptiveness,  our  keen  critical 
sense?  And  if  we  are  not  hypocrites,  we  are  indifferent  —  which 
is  almost  worse.  Indiff"erence  is  the  only  infidelity  I  recognize, 
and  it  is  unfortunately  as  conservative  as  zeal.  Indiff"erence  and 
hypocrisy  between  them  keep  orthodoxy  alive  —  while  they  kill 
Judaism. r 

"  0\\/l  can't  quite  admit  that,"  said  Raphael.  "  I  admit  that 
scepticism  is  better  than  stagnation,  but  I  cannot  see  why  ortho- 
doxy is  the  antithesis  to  Judaism  Purified  —  and  your  own 
sermons  are  doing  something  to  purify  it — orthodoxy  —  " 

"  Orthodoxy  cannot  be  purified  unless  by  juggling  with  w^ords," 
interrupted  Strelitski  vehemently.  "Orthodoxy  is  inextricably 
entangled  with  ritual  observance ;  and  ceremonial  religion  is 
of  the  ancient  world,  not  the  modern." 


FROM  SOUL    TO   SOUL.  611 

"  But  our  ceremonialism  is  pregnant  with  sublime  symbolism, 
and  its  discipline  is  most  salutary.  Ceremony  is  the  casket  of 
religion/^ 

'"  More  often  its  coffin,"  said  Strelitski  drily.  "  Ceremonial 
religion  is  so  apt  to  stiffen  in  a  rigor  mortis.  It  is  too  dangerous 
an  element ;  it  creates  hypocrites  and  Pharisees.  All  cast-iron 
laws  and  dogmas  do.  Not  that  I  share  the  Christian  sneer  at 
Jewish  legalism.  Add  the  Statute  Book  to  the  New  Testament, 
and  think  of  the  network  of  laws  hampering  the  feet  of  the 
Christian.  No ;  much  of  our  so-called  ceremonialism  is  merely 
the  primitive  mix-up  of  everything  with  religion  in  a  theocracy. 
The  Mosaic  code  has  been  largely  embodied  in  civil  law,  and 
superseded  by  it." 

"That  is  just  the  flaw  of  the  modern  world,  to  keep  life  and 
religion  apart,"  protested  Raphael ;  "  to  have  one  set  of  prin- 
ciples for  week-days  and  another  for  Sundays ;  to  grind  the 
inexorable  mechanism  of  supply  and  demand  on  pagan  princi- 
ples, and  make  it  up  out  of  the  poor-box." 

Strelitski  shook  his  head. 

"We  must  make  broad  our  platform,  not  our  phylacteries.  It 
is  because  I  am  with  you  in  admiring  the  Rabbis  that  I  would 
undo  much  of  their  work.  Theirs  was  a  wonderful  statesman- 
ship, and  they  built  wiser  than  they  knew ;  just  as  the  patient 
labors  of  the  superstitious  zealots  who  counted  every  letter  of 
the  Law  preserved  the  text  unimpaired  for  the  benefit  of  modern 
scholarship.  The  Rabbis  constructed  a  casket,  if  you  will, 
which  kept  the  jewel  safe,  though  at  the  cost  of  concealing  its 
lustre.  But  the  hour  has  come  now  to  wear  the  jewel  on  our 
breasts  before  all  the  world.  The  Rabbis  worked  for  their  time 
—  we  must  work  for  ours.  Judaism  was  before  the  Rabbis. 
Scientific  criticism  shows  its  thoughts  widening  with  the  process 
of  the  suns  —  even  as  its  God,  Yahweh,  broadened  from  a  local 
patriotic  Deity  to  the  inelTable  Name.  For  Judaism  was  worked 
out  from  within  —  Abraham  asked, '  Shall  not  the  Judge  of  all  the 
earth  do  right?'  —  the  thunders  of  Sinai  were  but  the  righteous 
indignation  of  the  developed  moral  consciousness.  In  every  age 
our  great  men  have  modified  and    developed   Judaism.     Why 


512  GRANDCHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

should  it  not  be  trimmed  into  concordance  with  the  cuhure  of 
the  time?  Especially  when  the  alternative  is  death.  Yes,  death! 
We  babble  about  petty  minuti^  of  ritual  while  Judaism  is  dying! 
We  are  like  the  crew  of  a  sinking  ship,  holy-stoning  the  deck 
instead  of  being  at  the  pumps.  No,  I  must  speak  out ;  I  cannot 
go  on  salving  my  conscience  by  unsigned  letters  to  the  press. 
Away  with  all  this  anonymous  apostleship!" 

He  moved  about  restlessly  with  animated  gestures  as  he  deliv- 
ered his  harangue  at  tornado  speed,  speech  bursting  from  him 
like  some  dynamic  energy  which  had  been  accumulating  for 
years,  and  could  no  longer  be  kept  in.  It  was  an  upheaval  of  the 
whole  man  under  the  stress  of  pent  forces.  Raphael  was  deeply 
moved.  He  scarcely  knew  how  to  act  in  this  unique  crisis. 
Dimly  he  foresaw  the  stir  and  pother  there  would  be  in  the  com- 
munity. Conservative  by  instinct,  apt  to  see  the  elements  of 
good  in  attacked  institutions  —  perhaps,  too,  a  little  timid  when 
it  came  to  take  action  in  the  tremendous  realm  of  realities  —  he 
was  loth  to  help  Strelitski  to  so  decisive  a  step,  though  his  whole 
heart  went  out  to  him  in  brotherly  sympathy. 

"Do  not  act  so  hastily,'^  he  pleaded.  '"Things  are  not  so 
black  as  you  see  them  —  you  are  almost  as  bad  as  Miss  Ansell. 
Don't  think  that  I  see  them  rosy ;  I  might  have  done  that  three 
months  ago.  But  don't  you  —  don't  all  idealists  —  overlook  the 
quieter  phenomena?  Is  orthodoxy  either  so  inefficacious  or  so 
moribund  as  you  fancy?  Is  there  not  a  steady,  perhaps  semi- 
conscious, stream  of  healthy  life,  thousands  of  cheerful,  wtII- 
ordered  households,  of  people  neither  perfect  nor  cultured,  but 
more  good  than  bad  ?  You  cannot  expect  saints  and  heroes  to 
grow  like  blackberries." 

"Yes;  but  look  what  Jews  set  up  to  be  —  God's  witnesses!" 
interrupted  Strelitski.  "  This  mediocrity  may  pass  in  the  rest  of 
the  world." 

"And  does  lack  of  modern  lights  constitute  ignorance?"  went 
on  Raphael,  disregarding  the  interruption.  He  began  walking 
up  and  down,  and  thrashing  the  air  with  his  arms.  Hitherto  he 
had  remained  comparatively  quiet,  dominated  by  Strelitski's  supe- 
rior restlessness.     "  I  cannot  help  thinking  there  is  a  profound 


FROM  SOUL    TO   SOUL.  513 

lesson  in  the  Bible  story  of  the  oxen  who,  unguided,  bore  safely 
the  Ark  of  the  Covenant.  Intellect  obscures  more  than  it 
illumines.'" 

"Oh,  Leon,  Leon,  you^ll  turn  Catholic,  soon!"  said  Strelitski 
reprovingly. 

"  Not  with  a  capital  C,"  said  Raphael,  laughing  a  little.  "  But 
I  am  so  sick  of  hearing  about  culture,  I  say  more  than  I  mean. 
Judaism  is  so  human  —  that's  why  I  like  it.  No  abstract  meta- 
physics, but  a  lovable  way  of  living  the  common  life,  sanctified 
by  the  centuries.  Culture  is  all  very  well —  doesn't  the  Talmud 
say  the  world  stands  on  the  breath  of  the  school-children?  —  but 
it  has  become  a  cant.     Too  often  it  saps  the  moral  fibre." 

"You  have  all  the  old  Jewish  narrowness,"  said  Strelitski. 

"  rd  rather  have  that  than  the  new  Parisian  narrowness  —  the 
cant  of  decadence.  Look  at  my  cousin  Sidney.  He  talks  as  if 
the  Jew  only  introduced  moral  headache  into  the  world  —  in  face 
of  the  corruptions  of  paganism  which  are  still  flagrant  all  over 
Asia  and  Africa  and  Polynesia— the  idol  worship,  the  abomina- 
tions, the  disregard  of  human  life,  of  truth,  of  justice." 

"  But  is  the  civilized  world  any  better?  Think  of  the  dishon- 
esty of  business,  the  self-seeking  of  public  life,  the  infamies  and 
hypocrisies  of  society,  the  prostitutions  of  soul  and  body!  No, 
the  Jew  has  yet  to  play  a  part  in  history.  Supplement  his  He- 
braism by  what  Hellenic  ideals  you  will,  but  the  Jew's  ideals 
must  ever  remain  the  indispensable  ones,"  said  Strelitski,  becom- 
ing exalted  again.  "Without  righteousness  a  kingdom  cannot 
stand.  The  world  is  longing  for  a  broad  simple  faith  that  shall 
look  on  science  as  its  friend  and  reason  as  its  inspirer.  People 
are  turning  in  their  despair  even  to  table-rappings  and  Mahatmas. 
Now,  for  the  first  time  in  history,  is  the  hour  of  Judaism.  Only 
it  must  enlarge  itself;  its  platform  must  be  all-inclusive.  Juda- 
ism is  but  a  specialized  form  of  Hebraism  ;  even  if  Jews  stick  to 
their  own  special  historical  and  ritual  ceremonies,  it  is  only 
Hebraism  — ■  the  pure  spirituaj  kernel  —  that  they  can  offer  the 
world." 

"  But  that  is  quite  the  orthodox  Jewish  idea  on  the  subject," 
said  Raphael. 

2L 


514  GRANDCHILDREN   OF   THE    GHETTO. 

"Yes,  but  orthodox  ideas  have  a  way  of  remaining  ideas,'^ 
retorted  Strelitski.  "Where  I  am  heterodox  is  in  thinking  the 
time  lias  come  to  work  tliem  out.  Also  in  thinking  that  the 
monotheism  is  not  the  element  that  needs  the  most  accentuation. 
The  formula  of  the  religion  of  the  future  will  be  a  Jewish  for- 
mula—  Character,  not  Creed.  The  provincial  period  of  Judaism 
is  over,  though  even  its  Dark  Ages  are  still  lingering  on  in  Eng- 
land. It  must  become  cosmic,  universal.  Judaism  is  too  timid, 
too  apologetic,  too  deferential.  Doubtless  this  is  the  result  of 
persecution,  but  it  does  not  tend  to  diminish  persecution.  We 
may  as  well  try  the  other  attitude.  It  is  the  world  the  Jewish 
preacher  should  address,  not  a  Kensington  congregation.  Per- 
haps, when  the  Kensington  congregation  sees  the  Avorld  is  listen- 
ing, it  will  listen,  too,""  he  said,  with  a  touch  of  bitterness. 

"  But  it  listens  to  you  now,"  said  Raphael. 

"  A  pleasing  illusion  which  has  kept  me  too  long  in  my  false 
position.  With  all  its  love  and  reverence,  do  you  think  it  for- 
gets lam  its  hireling?  I  may  perhaps  have  a  little  more  prestige 
than  the  bulk  of  my  fellows  —  though  even  that  is  partly  due  to 
my  congregants  being  rich  and  fashionable  —  but  at  bottom 
everybody  knows  I  am  taken  like  a  house  —  on  a  three  years' 
agreement.  And  I  dare  not  speak,  I  cannot,  while  I  wear  the 
badge  of  office ;  it  would  be  disloyal ;  my  own  congregation 
would  take  alarm.  The  position  of  a  minister  is  like  that  of  a 
judicious  editor  —  which,  by  the  way,  you  are  not;  he  is  led, 
rather  than  leads.  He  has  to  feel  his  way,  to  let  in  light  wher- 
ever he  sees  a  chink,  a  cranny.  But  let  them  get  another  man 
to  preach  to  them  the  echo  of  their  own  voices ;  there  will  be  no 
lack  of  candidates  for  the  salary.  For  my  part,  I  am  sick  of  this 
petty  Jesuitry ;  in  vain  I  tell  myself  it  is  spiritual  statesmanship 
like  that  of  so  many  Christian  clergymen  who  are  silently  brmg- 
ing  Christianity  back  to  Judaism."" 

"  But  it  is  spiritual  statesmanship,"  asserted  Raphael. 

"Perhaps.  You  are  wiser,  deeper,  calmer  than  I.  You  are 
an  Englishman,  I  am  a  Russian.  I  am  all  for  action,  action, 
action!  In  Russia  I  should  have  been  a  Nihilist;  not  a  philos- 
opher.    I    can    only   go    by    my    feelings,  and    I    feel    choking. 


FROM  SOUL    TO   SOUL.  515 

When  I  first  came  to  England,  before  the  horror  of  Russia 
wore  ofif,  I  used  to  go  about  breathing  in  deep  breaths  of  air, 
exulting  in  the  sense  of  freedom.  Now  I  am  stifling  again.  Do 
you  not  understand?  Have  you  never  guessed  it?  And  yet  I 
have  often  said  things  to  you  that  should  have  opened  your  eyes. 
I  must  escape  from  the  house  of  bondage  —  must  be  master  of 
myself,  of  my  word  and  thought.  Oh,  the  world  is  so  wide,  so 
wide — and  we  are  so  narrow!  Only  gradually  did  the  web 
mesh  itself  about  me.  At  first  my  fetters  were  flowery  bands, 
for  I  believed  all  I  taught  and  could  teach  all  I  believed.  In- 
sensibly the  flowers  changed  to  iron  chains,  because  I  was 
changing  as  I  probed  deeper  into  life  and  thought,  and  saw  my 
dreams  of  influencing  English  Judaism  fading  in  the  harsh  day- 
light of  fact.  And  yet  at  moments  the  iron  links  would  soften 
to  flowers  again.  Do  you  think  there  is  no  sweetness  in  adula- 
tion, in  prosperity  —  no  subtle  cajolery  that  soothes  the  con- 
science and  coaxes  the  soul  to  take  its  pleasure  in  a  world  of 
make-believe?  Spiritual  statesmanship,  forsooth!"  He  made 
a  gesture  of  resolution.  "  No,  the  Judaism  of  you  English 
weighs  upon  my  spirits.  It  is  so  parochial.  Everything  turns 
on  finance ;  the  United  Synagogue  keeps  your  community  or- 
thodox because  it  has  the  funds  and  owns  the  burying-grounds. 
Tnily  a  dismal  allegory  —  a  creed  whose  strength  lies  in  its 
cemeteries.  Money  is  the  sole  avenue  to  distinction  and  to 
authority ;  it  has  its  coarse  thumb  over  education,  worship, 
society.  In  my  country  —  even  in  your  own  Ghetto  —  the  Jews 
do  not  despise  money,  but  at  least  piety  and  learning  are  the 
titles  to  position  and  honor.  Here  the  scholar  is  classed  with 
the  Schnorrer  ]  if  an  artist  or  an  author  is  admired,  it  is  for  his 
success.  You  are  right ;  it  is  oxen  that  carry  your  Ark  of  the 
Covenant — fat  oxen.  You  admire  them,  Leon;  you  are  an 
Englishman,  and  cannot  stand  outside  it  all.  But  I  am  stifling 
under  this  weight  of  moneyed  mediocrity,  this  regime  of  dull 
respectability.     I  want  the  atmosphere  of  ideas  and  ideals." 

He   tore   at   his    high    clerical    collar   as    though    suffocating 
literally. 

Raphael  was  too  moved  to  defend  English  Judaism.     Besides, 


516  GRANDCHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

he  was  used  to  these  jeremiads  now  —  had  he  not  often  heard 
them  from  Sidney?  Had  he  not  read  them  in  Esther's  book? 
Nor  was  it  the  first  time  he  had  listened  to  the  Russian''s  tirades, 
though  he  had  lacked  the  key  to  the  internal  conflict  that  em- 
bittered them. 

"But  how  will  you  live?"  he  asked,  tacitly  accepting  the 
situation.  "You  will  not,  I  suppose,  go  over  to  the  Reform 
Synagogue?" 

"  That  fossil,  so  proud  of  its  petty  reforms  half  a  century  ago 
that  it  has  stood  still  ever  since  to  admire  them!  It  is  a  syna- 
gogue for  snobs  —  who  never  go  there." 

Raphael  smiled  faintly.  It  was  obvious  that  Strelitski  on  the 
war-path  did  not  pause  to  weigh  his  utterances. 

"  I  am  glad  you  are  not  going  over,  anyhow.  Your  congrega- 
tion would  —  " 

"  Crucify  me  between  two  money-lenders  ?  " 

"  Never  mind.     But  how  will  you  live  ? " 

"  How  does  Miss  Ansell  live?  I  can  always  travel  with  cigars 
• — I  know  the  line  thoroughly."  He  smiled  mournfully.  "But 
probably  I  shall  go  to  America  —  the  idea  has  been  floating  in 
my  mind  for  months.  There  Judaism  is  grander,  larger,  nobler. 
There  is  room  for  all  parties.  The  dead  bones  are  not  wor- 
shipped as  relics.  Free  thought  has  its  vent-holes  —  it  is  not 
repressed  into  hypocrisy  as  among  us.  There  is  care  for  litera- 
ture, for  national  ideals.  ^And  one  deals  with  millions,  not  petty 
thousands.  This  English  community,  with  its  squabbles  about 
rituals,  its  four  Chief  Rabbis  all  in  love  with  one  another,  its 
stupid  Sephardim,  its  narrow-minded  Reformers,  its  fatuous  self- 
importance,  its  invincible  ignorance,  is  but  an  ant-hill,  a  negli- 
gible quantity  in  the  future  of  the  faith.  Westward  the  course  of 
Judaism  as  of  empire  takes  its  way^from  the  Euphrates  and 
Tigris  it  emigrated  to  Cordova  and  Toledo,  and  the  year  that 
saw  its  expulsion  from  Spain  was  the  year  of  the  Discovery  ot 
America.  Ex  Oriente  lux.  Perhaps  it  will  return  to  you  here 
by  way  of  the  Occident.  Russia  and  America  are  the  two 
strongholds  of  the  race,  and  Russia  is  pouring  her  streams  into 
America,  where  they  will  be  made  free  men  and  free  thinkers. 


FROM  SOUL    TO   SOUL.  517 

It  is  in  America,  then,  that  the  last  great  battle  of  Judaism  will 
be  fought  out ;  amid  the  temples  of  the  New  World  it  will  make 
its  last  struggle  to  survive.  It  is  there  that  the  men  who  have 
faith  in  its  necessity  must  be,  so  that  the  psychical  force  con- 
served at  such  a  cost  may  not  radiate  uselessly  away.  Though 
Israel  has  sunk  low,  like  a  tree  once  green  and  living,  and  has 
become  petrified  and  blackened,  there  is  stored-up  sunlight  in 
him.  Our  racial  isolation  is  a  mere  superstition  unless  turned  to 
great  purposes.  We  have  done  nothing  as  yews  for  centuries, 
though  our  Old  Testament  has  always  been  an  arsenal  of  texts 
for  the  European  champions  of  civil  and  religious  liberty.  We 
have  been  unconsciously  pioneers  of  modern  commerce,  diflfusers 
of  folk-lore  and  what  not.  Cannot  we  be  a  conscious  force, 
making  for  nobler  ends?  Could  we  not,  for  instance,  be  the  link 
of  federation  among  the  nations,  acting  everywhere  in  favor  of 
Peace?  Could  we  not  be  the  centre  of  new  sociologic  move- 
ments  in  each  country,  as  a  few  American  Jews  have  been  the 
centre  of  the  Ethical  Culture  movement? '' 

"You  forget,''  said  Raphael,  "  that,  wherever  the  old  Judaism 
has  not  been  overlaid  by  the  veneer  of  Philistine  civilization,  we 
are  ah-eady  sociological  object-lessons  in  good  fellowship,  unpre- 
tentious charity,  domestic  poetry,  respect  for  learning,  disrespect 
for  respectability.  Our  social  system  is  a  bequest  from  the  an- 
cient world  by  which  the  modern  may  yet  benefit.  The  de- 
merits you  censure  in  English  Judaism  are  all  departures  from 
the  old  way  of  living.  Why  should  we  not  revive  or  strengthen 
that,  rather  than  waste  ourselves  on  impracticable  novelties? 
And  in  your  prognostications  of  the  future  of  the  Jews  have  you 
not  forgotten  the  all-important  factor  of  Palestine  ? " 

"  No  ;  I  simply  leave  it  out  of  count.  You  know  how  I  have 
persuaded  the  Holy  Land  League  to  co-operate  with  the  move- 
ments for  directing  the  streams  of  the  persecuted  towards 
America.  I  have  alleged  with  truth  that  Palestine  is  imprac- 
ticable for  the  moment.  I  have' not  said  what  I  have  gradually 
come  to  think  —  that  the  salvation  of  Judaism  is  not  in  the  national 
idea  at  all.  That  is  the  dream  of  visionaries  —  and  young  men,'' 
he  added  with  a  melancholy  smile.     "May  we  not  dream  nobler 


618  GRANDCHILDREN   OF   THE    GHETTO. 

dreams  than  political  independence?  For,  after  all,  political 
independence  is  only  a  means  to  an  end,  not  an  end  in  itself, 
as  it  might  easily  become,  and  as  it  appears  to  other  nations. 
To  be  merely  one  among  the  nations  —  that  is  not,  despite 
George  Eliot,  so  satisfactory  an  ideal.  The  restoration  to  Pal- 
estine, or  the  acquisition  of  a  national  centre,  may  be  a  political 
solution,  but  it  is  not  a  spiritual  idea.  We  must  abandon  it  — 
it  cannot  be  held  consistently  with  our  professed  attachment  to 
the  countries  in  which  our  lot  is  cast  —  and  we  have  abandoned 
it.  We  have  fought  and  slain  one  another  in  the  Franco- 
German  war,  and  in  the  war  of  the  North  and  the  South. 
Your  whole  difficulty  with  your  pauper  immigrants  arises  from 
your  effort  to  keep  two  contradictory  ideals  going  at  once.  As 
Englishmen,  you  may  have  a  right  to  shelter  the  exile ;  but  not 
as  Jews.  Certainly,  if  the  nations  cast  us  out,  we  could  draw 
together  and  form  a  nation  as  of  yore.  But  persecution,  expul- 
sion, is  never  simultaneous  ;  our  dispersal  has  saved  Judaism, 
and  it  may  yet  save  the  world.  For  1  prefer  the  dream  that  we 
are  divinely  dispersed  to  bless  it,  wind-sown  seeds  to  fertilize  its 
waste  places.  To  be  a  nation  without  a  fatherland,  yet  with  a 
mother-tongue,  Hebrew  —  there  is  the  spiritual  originality,  the 
miracle  of  history.  Such  has  been  the  real  kingdom  of  Israel  in 
the  past  —  we  have  been  ••'  sons  of  the  Law'''  as  other  men  have 
been  sons  of  France,  of  Italy,  of  Germany.  Such  may  our 
fatherland  continue,  with  '  the  higher  life '  substituted  for  '  the 
law'  —  a  kingdom  not  of  space,  not  measured  by  the  vulgar 
meteyard  of  an  Alexander,  but  a  great  spiritual  Republic,  as 
devoid  of  material  form  as  Israel's  God,  and  congruous  with 
his  conception  of  the  Divine.  And  the  conquest  of  this  king- 
dom needs  no  violent  movement  —  if  Jews  only  practised  what 
they  preach,  it  would  be  achieved  to-morrow ;  for  all  expressions 
of  Judaism,  even  to  the  lowest,  have  common  sublimities.  And 
this  kingdom — as  it  has  no  space,  so  it  has  no  limits;  it  must 
grow  till  all  mankind  are  its  subjects.  The  brotherhood  of 
Israel  will  be  the  nucleus  of  the  brotherhood  of  man." 

"It  is  magnificent,'"  said  Raphael;   -but  it  is  not  Judaism. 
If  the  Jews  have  the  future  you  dream  of,  the  future  will  have  no 


FROM  SOUL    TO   SOUL.  519 

Jews.  America  is  already  decimating  tliem  with  Sunday-Sab- 
baths and  English  Prayer-Books.  Your  Judaism  is  as  eviscer- 
ated as  the  Christianity  I  found  in  vogue  when  I  was  at  Oxford, 
which  might  be  summed  up :  There  is  no  God,  but  Jesus  Christ 
is  His  Son.  George  Eliot  was  right.  Men  are  men,  not  pure 
spirit.  A  fatherland  focusses  a  people.  Without  it  we  are  but 
the  gypsies  of  religion.  All  over  the  world,  at  every  prayer, 
every  Jew  turns  towards  Jerusalem.  We  must  not  give  up  the 
dream.  The  countries  we  live  in  can  never  be  more  than  '  step- 
fatherlands  '  to  us  Why,  if  your  visions  were  realized,  the 
prophecy  of  Genesis,  already  practically  fulfilled,  '  Thou  shalt 
spread  abroad  to  the  west  and  to  the  east,  and  to  the  north  and 
to  the  south  ;  and  in  thee  and  in  thy  seed  shall  all  the  families 
of  the  earth  be  blessed,'  would  be  so  remarkably  consummated 
that  we  might  reasonably  hope  to  come  to  our  own  again  accord- 
ing to  the  promises.'"' 

"  Well,  well,"  said  Strelitski,  good-humoredly,  '•  so  long  as  you 
admit  it  is  not  within  the  range  of  practical  politics  now." 

"  It  is  your  own  dream  that  is  premature,"  retorted  Raphael ; 
"at  any  rate,  the  cosmic  part  of  it.  You  are  thinking  of  throw- 
ing open  the  citizenship  of  your  Republic  to  the  world.  But 
to-day's  task  is  to  make  its  citizens  by  blood  worthier  of  their 
privilege." 

"  You  will  never  do  it  with  the  old  generation,"  said  Strelitski. 
"  My  hope  is  in  the  new.  Moses  led  the  Jews  forty  years  through 
the  wilderness  merely  to  eliminate  the  old.  Give  me  young  men, 
and  I  will  move  the  world." 

"You  will  do  nothing  by  attempting  too  much,"  said  Raphael ; 
"  you  will  only  dissipate  your  strength.  For  my  part,  I  shall  be 
content  to  raise  Judaea  an  inch." 

"  Go  on,  then,"  said  Strelitski.  "  That  will  give  me  a  barley- 
corn. But  I've  wasted  too  much  of  your  time,  I  fear.  Good- 
bye.    Remember  your  promise." 

He  held  out  his  hand.  He  had  grown  quite  calm,  now  his 
decision  was  taken. 

"  Good-bye,"  said  Raphael,  shaking  it  warmly.  "  I  think  I 
shall  cable  to  America,  '  Behold,  Joseph  the  dreamer  cometh.' " 


520  GRANDCHILDREN   OF   THE    GHETTO. 

"Dreams  are  our  life,"  replied  Strelitski.  "  Lessing  was  right 
—  aspiration  is  everything." 

"  And  yet  you  would  rob  the  orthodox  Jew  of  his  dream  of  Jeru- 
salem! Well,  if  you  must  go,  don't  go  without  your  tie,"  said 
Raphael,  picking  it  up,  and  feeling  a  stolid,  practical  Englishman 
in  presence  of  this  enthusiast.  "  It  is  dreadfully  dirty,  but  you 
must  wear  it  a  little  longer." 

"  Only  till  the  New  Year,  which  is  bearing  down  upon  us," 
said  Strelitski,  thrusting  it  into  his  pocket.  "  Cost  what  it  may, 
I  shall  no  longer  countenance  the  ritual  and  ceremonial  of  the  sea- 
son of  Repentance.  Good-bye  again.  If  you  should  be  writing 
to  Miss  Ansell.  I  should  like  her  to  know  how  much  I  owe  her." 

''  But  I  tell  you  I  don't  know  her  address,"  said  Raphael,  his 
uneasiness  reawakening. 

"  Surely  you  can  write  to  her  publishers?" 

And  the  door  closed  upon  the  Russian  dreamer,  leaving  the 
practical  Englishman  dumbfounded  at  his  never  having  thought 
of  this  simple  expedient.  But  before  he  could  adopt  it  the  door 
was  thrown  open  again  by  Pinchas,  who  had  got  out  of  the  habit 
of  knocking  through  Raphael  being  too  polite  to  reprimand  him. 
The  poet  tottered  in,  dropped  wearily  into  a  chair,  and  buried 
his  face  in  his  hands,  letting  an  extinct  cigar-stump  slip  through 
his  fingers  on  to  the  literature  that  carpeted  the  floor. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  inquired  Raphael  in  alarm. 

"  I  am  miserable  —  vairy  miserable." 

"  Has  anything  happened?" 

"Nothing.  But  I  have  been  thinking  vat  have  I  come  to 
after  all  these  years,  all  these  vanderings.  Nothing!  Vat  vill 
be  my  end?     Oh,  I  am  so  unhappy." 

"  But  you  are  better  off  than  you  ever  were  in  your  life.  You  no 
longer  live  amid  the  squalor  of  the  Ghetto  ;  you  are  clean  and  well 
dressed ;  you  yourself  admit  that  you  can  afford  to  give  charity 
now.     That  looks  as  if  you'd  come  to  something  —  not  nothing." 

"Yes,"  said  the  poet,  looking  up  eagerly,  "and  I  am  famous 
through  the  vorld.  Metatarojis  Flajiies  vill  shine  eternally." 
His  head  drooped  again.  "I  have  all  I  vant,  and  you  are  the 
best  man  in  the  vorld.     But  I  am  the  most  miserable." 


FROM  SOUL    TO   SOUL.  521 

"Nonsense!  cheer  up,"  said  Raphael. 

"I  can  never  cheer  up  any  more.  I  vill  shoot  myself.  I  have 
realized  the  emptiness  of  life.  Fame,  money,  love — all  is  Dead 
Sea  fmit.'" 

His  shoulders  heaved  convulsively  ;  he  was  sobbing.  Raphael 
stood  by  helpless,  his  respect  for  Pinchas  as  a  poet  and  for  him- 
self as  a  practical  Englishman  returning.  He  pondered  over  the 
strange  fate  that  had  thrown  him  among  three  geniuses  —  a 
male  idealist,  a  female  pessimist,  and  a  poet  who  seemed  to 
belong  to  both  sexes  and  categories.  And  yet  there  was  not 
one  of  the  three  to  whom  he  seemed  able  to  be  of  real  service. 
A  letter  brought  in  by  the  office-boy  rudely  snapped  the  thread 
of  reflection.  It  contained  three  enclosures.  The  first  was  an 
epistle ;  the  hand  was  the  hand  of  Mr.  Goldsmith,  but  the  voice 
was  the  voice  of  his  beautiful  spouse. 

"Dear  Mr.  Leon: 

"  I  have  perceived  many  symptoms  lately  of  your  growing 
divergency  from  the  ideas  with  which  The  Flag  of  Judah  was 
started.  It  is  obvious  that  you  find  yourself  unable  to  empha- 
size the  olden  features  of  our  faith  —  the  questions  of  kosher 
meat,  etc. — as  forcibly  as  our  readers  desire.  You  no  doubt 
cherish  ideals  which  are  neither  practical  nor  within  the  grasp 
of  the  masses  to  whom  we  appeal.  I  fully  appreciate  the 
delicacy  that  makes  you  reluctant — in  the  dearth  of  genius 
and  Hebrew  learning — to  saddle  me  with  the  task  of  finding 
a  substitute,  but  I  feel  it  is  time  for  me  to  restore  your  peace 
of  mind  even  at  the  expense  of  my  own.  I  have  been  thinking 
that,  with  your  kind  occasional  supervision,  it  might  be  possible 
for  Mr.  Pinchas,  of  whom  you  have  always  spoken  so  highly,  to 
undertake  the  duties  of  editorship,  Mr.  Sampson  remaining  sub- 
editor as  before.  Of  course  I  count  on  you  to  continue  your 
purely  scholarly  articles,  and  to  impress  upon  the  two  gentlemen 
who  will  now  have  direct  relations  with  me  my  wish  to  remain 

in  the  background. 

"  Yours  sincerely. 

"Henry  Goldsmith. 


522  GRANDCHILDREN   OF  THE    GHETTO. 

*' P.S. — On  second  thoughts  I  beg  to  enclose  a  cheque  for 
four  guineas,  which  will  serve  instead  of  a  formal  month's  notice, 
and  will  enable  you  to  accept  at  once  my  wife's  invitation,  like- 
wise enclosed  herewith.  Your  sister  seconds  Mrs.  Goldsmith  in 
the  hope  that  you  will  do  so.  Our  tenancy  of  the  Manse  only 
lasts  a  few  weeks  longer,  for  of  course  we  return  for  the  New 
Year  holidays." 

This  was  the  last  straw.  It  was  not  so  much  the  dismissal 
that  staggered  him,  but  to  be  called  a  genius  and  an  idealist 
himself — to  have  his  own  orthodoxy  impugned  —  just  at  this 
moment,  was  a  rough  shock. 

"Pinchas!"he  said,  recovering  himself  Pinchas  would  not 
look  up.  His  face  was  still  hidden  in  his  hands.  ''Pinchas, 
listen!  You  are  appointed  editor  of  the  paper,  instead  of  me. 
You  are  to  edit  the  next  number." 

Pinchas's  head  shot  up  like  a  catapult.  He  bounded  to  his 
feet,  then  bent  down  again  to  Raphael's  coat-tail  and  kissed  it 
passionately. 

"Ah,  my  benefactor,  my  benefactor!"  he  cried,  in  a  joyous 
frenzy.  "  Now  vill  I  give  it  to  English  Judaism.  She  is  in  my 
power.     Oh,  my  benefactor!" 

"  No,  no,"  said  Raphael,  disengaging  himself.  "  I  have  noth- 
ing to  do  with  it." 

''But  de  paper  —  she  is  yours!"  said  the  poet,  forgetting  his 
English  in  his  excitement. 

'"No,  I  am  only  the  editor.  I  have  been  dismissed,  and  you 
are  appointed  instead  of  me." 

Pinchas  dropped  back  into  his  chair  like  a  lump  of  lead.  He 
hung  his  head  again  and  folded  his  arms. 

''  Then  they  get  not  me  for  editor,"  he  said  moodily. 

"Nonsense,  why  not?  "said  Raphael,  flushing. 

"Vat  you  think  me?"  Pinchas  asked  indignantly.  "  Do  you 
think  I  have  a  stone  for  a  heart  like  Gideon  M.  P.  or  your  Eng- 
lish stockbrokers  and  Rabbis  ?  No,  you  shall  go  on  being  edi- 
tor. They  think  you  are  not  able  enough,  not  orthodox  enough 
—  they  vant  me —  but  do  not  fear.     I  shall  not  accept." 


LOVE'S    TEMPTATION.  •     523 

"But  then  what  will  become  of  the  next  number?"  remon- 
strated Raphael,  touched.     "  I  must  not  edit  it." 

"Vat  you  care?  Let  her  diel "  cried  Pinchas,  in  gloomy  com- 
placency. "You  have  made  her;  vy  should  she  survive  you? 
It  is  not  right  another  should  valk  in  your  shoes  —  least  of  all,  I." 

"But  I  don't  mind  —  I  don't  mind  a  bit,"  Raphael  assured 
him.  Pinchas  shook  his  head  obstinately.  "If  the  paper  dies, 
Sampson  will  have  nothing  to  live  upon,"  Raphael  reminded 
him. 

"  True,  vairy  true,"  said  the  poet,  patently  beginning  to  yield. 
"  That  alters  things.     Ve  cannot  let  Sampson  starve." 

"No,  you  see! "  said  Raphael.     "So  you  must  keep  it  alive." 

"Yes,  but,"  said  Pinchas,  getting  up  thoughtfully,  "Sampson 
is  going  off  soon  on  tour  vith  his  comic  opera.  He  vill  not  need 
the  Flagy 

"  Oh,  well,  edit  it  till  then." 

"  Be  it  so,"  said  the  poet  resignedly.  "  Till  Sampson's  comic- 
opera  tour." 

"  Till  Sampson's  comic-opera  tour,"  repeated  Raphael  con- 
tentedly. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

love's  temptation. 

Raphael  walked  out  of  the  office,  a  free  man.  Mountains  of 
responsibility  seemed  to  roll  off  his  shoulders.  His  Messianic 
emotions  were  conscious  of  no  laceration  at  the  failure  of  this 
episode  of  his  life ;  they  were  merged  in  greater.  What  a  fool 
he  had  been  to  waste  so  much  time,  to  make  no  effort  to  find  the 
lonely  girl!  Surely,  Esther  must  have  expected  him,  if  only  as  a 
friend,  to  give  some  sign  that  he  did  not  share  in  the  popular 
execration.  Perchance  she  had  ah-eady  left  London  or  the  coun- 
try, only  to  be  found  again  by  protracted  knightly  quest!  He 
felt  grateful  to  Providence  for  setting  him  free  for  her  salvation. 
He  made  at  once  for  the  publishers'  and  asked  for  her  address. 


524     '         GRANDCHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

The  junior  partner  knew  of  no  such  person  In  vain  Raphael 
reminded  him  that  they  had  published  Mordecai  Josephs. 
That  was  by  Mr.  Edward  Armitage.  Raphael  accepted  the  con- 
vention, and  demanded  this  gentleman's  address  instead.  That, 
too,  was  refused,  but  all  letters  would  be  forwarded.  Was  Mr. 
Armitage  in  England?  All  letters  would  be  forwarded-  Upon 
that  the  junior  partner  stood,  inexpugnable. 

Raphael  went  out,  not  uncomforted.  He  would  write  to  her 
at  once.  He  got  letter-paper  at  the  nearest  restaurant  and 
wrote,  "Dear  Miss  Ansell."  The  rest  was  a  blank.  He  had 
not  the  least  idea  how  to  renew  the  relationship  after  what 
seemed  an  eternity  of  silence.  He  stared  helplessly  round  the 
mirrored  walls,  seeing  mainly  his  own  helpless  stare.  The  pla- 
card "  Smoking  not  permitted  till  8  p.m.,"  gave  him  a  sudden 
shock.  He  felt  for  his  pipe,  and  ultimately  found  it  stuck,  half 
full  of  charred  bird's  eye,  in  his  breast-pocket.  He  had  appar- 
ently not  been  smoking  for  some  hours.  That  completed  his 
perturbation.  He  felt  he  had  undergone  too  much  that  day  to 
be  in  a  fit  state  to  write  a  judicious  letter  He  would  go  home 
and  rest  a  bit,  and  write  the  letter — very  diplomatically  —  in 
the  evening.  When  he  got  home,  he  found  to  his  astonishment 
it  was  Friday  evening,  when  letter-writing  is  of  the  devil. 
Habit  carried  him  to  synagogue,  where  he  sang  the  Sabbath 
hymn,  "Come,  my  beloved,  to  meet  the  bride,''  with  strange 
sweet  tears  and  a  complete  indifference  to  its  sacred  allegorical 
signification.  Next  afternoon  he  haunted  the  publishers'  door- 
step with  the  brilliant  idea  that  Mr  Armitage  sometimes  crossed 
it.  In  this  hope,  he  did  )iot  write  the  letter;  his  phrases,  he 
felt,  would  be  better  for  the  inspiration  of  that  gentleman's  pres- 
ence. Meanwhile  he  had  ample  time  to  mature  them,  to  review 
the  situation  in  every  possible  light,  to  figure  Esther  under  the 
most  poetical  images,  to  see  his  future  alternately  radiant  and 
sombre.  Four  long  summer  days  of  espionage  only  left  him  with 
a  heartache,  and  a  specialist  knowledge  of  the  sort  of  persons 
who  visit  pubhshers.  A  temptation  to  bribe  the  office-boy  he 
resisted  as  unworthy. 

Not  only  had  he  not  written  that  letter,  but  Mr.  Henry  Gold- 


LOVE'S   TEMPTATION.  525 

smith's  edict  and  Mrs.  Henry  Goldsmitli's  invitation  were  still 
unacknowledged.  On  Thursday  morning  a  letter  from  Ad  die 
indirectly  reminded  him  both  of  his  remissness  to  her  hostess, 
and  of  the  existence  of  The  Flag  of  Judah.  He  remembered 
it  was  the  day  of  going  to  press ;  a  vision  of  the  difficulties  of 
the  day  flashed  vividly  upon  his  consciousness ;  he  wondered 
if  his  ex-lieutenants  were  finding  new  ones.  The  smell  of  the 
machine-room  was  in  his  nostrils ;  it  co-operated  with  the  appeal 
of  his  good-nature  to  draw  him  to  his  successor's  help.  Virtue 
proved  its  own  reward.  Arriving  at  eleven  o'clock,  he  found 
little  Sampson  in  great  excitement,  with  the  fountain  of  melody 
dried  up  on  his  lips. 

"Thank  God!"  he  cried.  "  I  thought  you'd  come  when  you 
heard  the  news." 

"  What  news  ?  " 

"  Gideon  the  member  for  WhitechapePs  dead.  Died  suddenly, 
early  this  morning." 

"How  shocking!  "  said  Raphael,  growing  white. 

"Yes,  isn't  it?"  said  little  Sampson.  "If  he  had  died  yester- 
day, I  shouldn't  have  minded  it  so  much,  while  to-morrow  would 
have  given  us  a  clear  week.  He  hasn't  even  been  ill,"  he 
grumbled.  "  I've  had  to  send  Pinchas  to  the  Museum  in  a 
deuce  of  a  hurry,  to  find  out  about  his  early  life.  I'm  awfully 
upset  about  it,  and  what  makes  it  worse  is  a  telegram  from 
Goldsmith,  ordering  a  page  obituary  at  least  with  black  rules, 
besides  a  leader.  It's  simply  sickening.  The  proofs  are  awful 
enough  as  it  is — my  blessed  editor  has  been  writing  four  col- 
umns of  his  autobiography  in  his  most  original  English,  and  he 
wants  to  leave  out  all  the  news  part  to  make  room  for  'em.  In 
one  way  Gideon's  death  is  a  boon  ;  even  Pinchas'll  see  his  stuff 
must  be  crowded  out.  It's  frightful  having  to  edit  your  editor. 
Why  wasn't  he  made  sub?" 

"  That  would  have  been  just  as  trying  for  you,"  said  Raphael 
with  a  melancholy  smile.  He  took  up  a  galley-proof  and  began 
to  correct  it.  To  his  surprise  he  came  upon  his  own  paragraph 
about  Strelitski's  resignation :  it  caused  him  fresh  emotion. 
This  great   spiritual    crisis    had   quite    slipped    his  memory,  so 


526  GRANDCHILDREN   OF   THE    GHETTO. 

egoistic  are  the  best  of  us  at  times.  "  Please  be  careful  that 
Pinchas's  autobiography  does  not  crowd  that  out/'  he  said. 

Pinchas  arrived  late,  when  little  Sampson  was  almost  in 
despair.  "  It  is  all  right,"  he  shouted,  waving  a  roll  of  manu- 
script. "I  have  him  from  the  cradle — the  stupid  stockbroker, 
the  Man-of-the-Earth,  who  sent  me  back  my  poesie,  and  vouid 
not  let  me  teach  his  boy  Judaism.  And  vhile  I  had  the  inspira- 
tion I  wrote  the  leader  also  in  the  Museum  —  it  is  here  —  oh, 
vairy  beautiful !  Listen  to  the  first  sentence.  '•  The  Angel  of 
Death  has  passed  again  over  Judaea;  he  has  flown  off  vith  our 
visest  and  our  best,  but  the  black  shadow  of  his  ving  vill  long 
rest  upon  the  House  of  Israel!'  And  the  end  is  vordy  of  the 
beginning.  He  is  dead ;  but  he  lives  for  ever  enshrined  in  the 
noble  tribute  to  his  genius  in  Metatoroti's  FlainesT 

Little  Sampson  seized  the  "  copy  "  and  darted  with  it  to  the 
composing-room,  where  Raphael  was  busy  giving  directions. 
By  his  joyful  face  Raphael  saw  the  crisis  was  over.  Little 
Sampson  handed  the  manuscript  to  the  foreman,  then  drawing 
a  deep  breath  of  relief,  he  began  to  hum  a  sprightly  march. 

"I  say,  you're  a  nice  chap!"  he  grumbled,  cutting  himself 
short  with  a  staccato  that  was  not  in  the  music. 

"  What  have  I  done?  "  asked  Raphael. 

"Done?  You've  got  me  into  a  nice  mess.  The  guvnor  — 
the  new  guvnor,  the  old  guvnor,  it  seems  —  called  the  other  day 
to  fix  things  with  me  and  Pinchas.  He  asked  me  if  1  was  satis- 
fied to' go  on  at  the  same  screw.  1  said  he  might  make  it  two 
pound  ten.  'What,  more  than  double?'  says  he.  'No,  only 
nine  shillings  extra,'  says  I,  'and  for  that  I'll  throw  in  some 
foreign  telegrams  the  late  editor  never  cared  for.'  And  then  it 
came  out  that  he  only  knew  of  a  sovereign,  and  fancied  I  was 
trying  it  on." 

"Oh,  I'm  so  sorry,"  said  Raphael,  in  deep  scarlet  distress. 

"  You  must  have  been  paying  a  guinea  out  of  your  own 
pocket!"  said  little  Sampson  sharply. 

Raphael's  confusion  increased.  *' I  —  I  —  didn't  want  it  my- 
self," he  faltered.  "  You  see,  it  was  paid  me  just  for  form,  and 
you  really  did  the  work.      Which  reminds  me  I  have  a  clieque 


LOVE'S    TEMPTATION.  527 

of  yours  now,"  he  ended  boldly.  "  That'll  make  it  right  for  the 
coming  month,  anyhow. '^ 

He  hunted  out  Goldsmith's  final  cheque,  and  tendered  it 
sheepishly. 

"Oh  no,  I  can't  take  it  now,"  said  little  Sampson.  He  folded 
his. arms,  and  drew  his  cloak  around  him  like  a  toga.  No 
August  sun  ever  divested  little  Sampson  of  his  cloak. 

"Has  Goldsmith  agreed  to  your  terms,  then?"  inquired 
Raphael  timidly. 

"Oh  no,  not  he.     But  —  " 

"  Then  I  must  go  on  paying  the  difference,"  said  Raphael 
decisively.  "  I  am  responsible  to  you  that  you  get  the  salary 
you're  used  to ;  it's  my  fault  that  things  are  changed,  and  I  must 
pay  the  penalty  "  He  crammed  the  cheque  forcibly  into  the 
pocket  of  the  toga. 

"  Well,  if  you  put  it  in  that  way,"  said  little  Sampson,  "  I 
won't  say  I  couldn't  do  with  it.     But  only  as  a  loan,  mind." 

"All  right,"  murmured  Raphael. 

"And  you'll  take  it  back  when  my  comic  opera  goes  on  tour. 
You  won't  back  out  ? " 

"No." 

"Give  us  your  hand  on  it,"  said  little  Sampson  huskily. 
Raphael  gave  him  his  hand,  and  little  Sampson  swung  it  up  and 
down  like  a  baton. 

"  Hang  it  all!  and  that  man  calls  himself  a  Jew!  "  he  thought. 
Aloud  he  said:  "  When  my  comic  opera  goes  on  tour." 

They  returned  to  the  editorial  den,  where  they  found  Pinchas 
raging,  a  telegram  in  his  hand. 

"  Ah,  the  Man-of-the-Earth !  "  he  cried.  "  All  my  beautiful 
peroration  he  spoils."  He  crumpled  up  the  telegram  and  threw 
it  pettishly  at  little  Sampson,  then  greeted  Raphael  with  effusive 
joy  and  hilarity  Little  Sampson  read  the  telegram.  It  ran  as 
follows : 

"  Last  sentence  of  Gideon  leader.  ^  It  is  too  early  yet  in  this 
moment  of  grief  to  speculate  as  to  his  successor  in  the  constitu- 
ency. But,  difficult  as  it  will  be  to  replace  him,  we  may  find 
some  solace  in  the  thought  that  it  will  not  be  impossible.     The 


528  GRANDCHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

spirit  of  the  illustrious  dead  would  itself  rejoice  to  acknowledge 
the  special  qualifications  of  one  whose  name  will  at  once  rise  to 
every  lip  as  that  of  a  brother  Jew  whose  sincere  piety  and  genu- 
ine public  spirit  mark  him  out  as  the  one  worthy  substitute  in 
the  representation  of  a  district  embracing  so  many  of  our  poor 
Jewish  brethren.  Is  it  too  much  to  hope  that  he  will  be  induced 
to  stand?'     Goldsmith." 

"  That's  a  cut  above  Henry,"  murmured  little  Sampson,  who 
knew  nearly  everything,  save  the  facts  he  had  to  supply  to  the 
public.  "He  wired  to  the  wife,  and  it's  hers.  Well,  it  saves 
him  from  writing  his  own  puffs,  anyhow.  I  suppose  Goldsmith's 
only  the  signature,  not  intended  to  be  the  last  word  on  the  sub- 
ject. Wants  touching  up,  though;  can't  have  'spirit'  twice 
within  four  lines.  How  lucky  for  him  Leon  is  just  off  the  box 
seat!  That  queer  beggar  would  never  have  submitted  to  any 
dictation  any  more  than  the  boss  would  have  dared  show  his 
hand  so  openly." 

While  the  sub-editor  mused  thus,  a  remark  dropped  from  the 
editor's  lips,  which  turned  Raphael  whiter  than  the  news  of  the 
death  of  Gideon  had  done. 

"  Yes,  and  in  the  middle  of  writing  I  look  up  and  see  the  maiden 
—  oh,  vairy  beautiful!  How  she  gives  it  to  English  Judaism 
sharp  in  that  book  —  the  stupid  heads,  —  the  Men-of-the-Earth ! 
I  could  kiss  her  for  it,  only  I  have  never  been  introduced.  Gid- 
eon, he  is  there!  Ho!  ho!"  he  sniggered,  with  purely  intellec- 
tual appreciation  of  the  pungency. 

"  What  maiden  ?  What  are  you  talking  about  ?  "  asked  Raphael, 
his  breath  coming  painfully. 

"Your  maiden,"  said  Pinchas,  surveying  him  with  affectionate 
roguishness.  "  The  maiden  that  came  to  see  vou  here.  She  was 
reading ;  I  walk  by  and  see  it  is  about  America." 

"At  the  British  Museum?"  gasped  Raphael.  A  thousand 
hammers  beat  "  Fool ! "  upon  his  brain.  Why  had  he  not  thought 
of  so  likely  a  place  for  a  litterateur  ? 

He  rushed  out  of  the  office  and  into  a  hansom.  He  put  his  pipe 
out  in  anticipation.  In  seven  minutes  he  was  at  the  gates,  just 
in  time  —  heaven  be  thanked !  —  to  meet  her  abstractedly  descend- 


LOVE'S    TEMPTATION,  529 

ing  the  steps.  His  heart  gave  a  great  leap  of  joy.  He  studied 
the  pensive  little  countenance  for  an  instant  before  it  became 
aware  of  him ;  its  sadness  shot  a  pang  of  reproach  through  him. 
Then  a  great  light,  as  of  wonder  and  joy,  came  into  the  dark 
eyes,  and  glorified  the  pale,  passionate  face.  But  it  was  only  a 
flash  that  faded,  leaving  the  cheeks  more  pallid  than  before,  the 
lips  quivering. 

"  Mr.  Leon!  "  she  muttered. 

He  raised  his  hat,  then  held  out  a  trembling  hand  that  closed 
upon  hers  with  a  grip  that  hurt  her. 

"  Pm  so  glad  to  see  you  again!"  he  said,  with  unconcealed 
enthusiasm.  "I  have  been  meaning  to  write  to  you  for  days  — 
care  of  your  publishers.     I  wonder  if  you  will  ever  forgive  me!  " 

"  You  had  nothing  to  write  to  me,"  she  said,  striving  to  speak 
coldly. 

''Oh  yes,  I  had!"  he  protested. 

She  shook  her  head. 

"Our  journalistic  relations  are  over  —  there  were  no  others." 

"  Oh ! "  he  said  reproachfully,  feeling  his  heart  grow  chill. 
"  Surely  we  Avere  friends?  " 

She  did  not  answer. 

"  I  wanted  to  write  and  tell  you  how  much,"  he  began  desper- 
ately, then  stammered,  and  ended — "how  much  I  liked  Mor- 
decai  Josephsy 

This  time  the  reproachful  "Oh!"  came  from  her  lips.  "I 
thought  better  of  you,"  she  said.  "You  didn't  say  that  in  The 
Flag  of  JudaJi ;  writing  it  privately  to  me  wouldn't  do  me  any 
good  in  any  case  " 

He  felt  miserable ;  from  the  crude  standpoint  of  facts,  there 
was  no  answer  to  give.     He  gave  none. 

"  I  suppose  it  is  all  about  now  ? "  she  went  on,  seeing  him 
silent. 

"Pretty  well,"  he  answered,  understanding  the  question. 
Then,  with  an  indignant  accent,  he  said,  "  Mrs.  Goldsmith  tells 
everybody  she  found  it  out,  and  sent  you  away." 

"  I  am  glad  she  says  that,"  she  remarked  enigmatically. 
"And,  naturally,  everybody  detests  me?" 

2M 


630  GRANDCHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

"  Not  everybody/'  he  began  threateningly. 

"  Don't  let  us  stand  on  the  steps/'  she  interrupted.  ''  People 
will  be  looking  at  us."  They  moved  slowly  downwards,  and 
into  the  hot,  bustling  streets.  "Why  are  you  not  at  the  Flag? 
I  thought  this  was  your  busy  day."  She  did  not  add,  "  And  so 
I  ventured  to  the  Museum,  knowing  there  was  no  chance  of  your 
turning  up ;  "  but  such  was  the  fact. 

"I  am  not  the  editor  any  longer,"  he  replied. 

"Not?"  She  almost  came  to  a  stop.  "So  much  for  my  criti- 
cal faculty ;  I  could  have  sworn  to  your  hand  in  every  num- 
ber." 

"  Your  critical  faculty  equals  your  creative,"  he  began. 

"Journalism  has  taught  you  sarcasm." 

"No,  no!  please  do  not  be  so  unkind.  I  spoke  in  earnestness. 
I  have  only  just  been  dismissed." 

"Dismissed!"  she  echoed  incredulously.  "I  thought  the 
Flag  was  your  own?" 

He  grew  troubled.  "I  bought  it  —  but  for  another.  We  — 
he  —  has  dispensed  with  my  services." 

"Oh,  how  shameful!" 

The  latent  sympathy  of  her  indignation  cheered  him  again. 

"I  am  not  son-y,"  he  said.  "I'm  afraid  I  really  was  outgrow- 
ing its  original  platform." 

"What?"  she  asked,  with  a  note  of  mockery  in  her  voice. 
"  You  have  left  off  being  orthodox  ? " 

"  I  don't  say  that.  It  seems  to  me,  rather,  that  I  have  come 
to  understand  I  never  was  orthodox  in  the  sense  that  the  ortho- 
dox understand  the  word.  I  had  never  come  into  contact  with 
them  before.  I  never  reahzed  how  unfair  orthodox  writers  are  to 
Judaism,  But  I  do  not  abate  one  word  of  what  I  have  ever  said 
or  written,  except,  of  course,  on  questions  of  scholarship,  which 
are  always  open  to  revision.*' 

"But  what  is  to  become  of  me —  of  my  conversion?"  she  said, 
with  mock  piteousness. 

"You  need  no  conversion!"  he  answered  passionately,  aban- 
doning without  a  twinge  all  those  criteria  of  Judaism  for  which  he 
had  fought  with  Strelitski.     "  You  are  a  Jewess  not  only  in  blood, 


LOVE'S    TEMPTATION.  531 

but  in  spirit.  Deny  it  as  you  may,  you  have  all  tiie  Jewish  ideals, 
—  they  are  implied  in  your  attack  on  our  society." 

She  shook  her  head  obstinately. 

"  You  read  all  that  into  me,  as  you  read  your  modern  thought 
into  the  old  naive  books.'" 

"  I  read  what  is  in  you.  Your  soul  is  in  the  right,  whatever 
your  brain  says."  He  went  on,  almost  to  echo  Strelitski's  words, 
"  Selfishness  is  the  only  real  atheism ;  aspiration,  unselfishness, 
the  only  real  religion.  In  the  language  of  our  Hillel,  this  is  the 
text  of  the  Law ;  the  rest  is  commentary.  You  and  I  are  at  one 
in  believing  that,  despite  all  and  after  all,  the  world  turns  on 
righteousness,  on  justice  "  —  his  voice  became  a  whisper  —  "  on 
love." 

The  old  thrill  went  through  her,  as  when  first  they  met.  Once 
again  the  universe  seemed  bathed  in  holy  joy.  But  she  shook 
off  the  spell  almost  angrily.  Her  face  was  definitely  set  towards 
the  life  of  the  New  World.     Why  should  he  disturb  her  anew? 

"Ah,  well,  Fm  glad  you  allow  me  a  little  goodness,"  she  said 
sarcastically.  "It  is  quite  evident  how  you  have  drifted  from 
orthodoxy.  Strange  result  of  The  Flag  of  Judah !  Started  to 
convert  me,  it  has  ended  by  alienating  you  —  its  editor  —  from 
the  true  faith.  Oh,  the  irony  of  circumstance!  But  don't  look 
so  glum.  It  has  fulfilled  its  mission  all  the  same ;  it  /las  con- 
verted me  —  I  will  confess  it  to  you."  Her  face  grew  grave,  her 
tones  earnest.  "  So  1  haven't  an  atom  of  sympathy  with  your 
broader  attitude.  I  am  full  of  longing  for  the  old  impossible 
Judaism. " 

His  face  took  on  a  look  of  anxious  solicitude.  He  was  uncer- 
tain whether  she  spoke  ironically  or  seriously.  Only  one  thing 
was  certain  — that  she  was  slipping  from  him  again.  She  seemed 
so  complex,  paradoxical,  elusive — and  yet  growing  every  mo- 
ment more  dear  and  desirable. 

"Where  are  you  living?"  he  asked  abruptly 

"  It  doesn't  matter  where,"  she  answered.  "  I  sail  for  America 
in  three  weeks." 

The  world  seemed  suddenly  empty.  It  was  hopeless,  then  — 
she  was  almost  in  his  grasp,  yet  he  could  not  hold  her.     Some 


A 


532  GRANDCHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

greater  force  was  sweeping  her  into  strange  alien  solitudes.  A 
storm  of  protest  raged  in  his  heart  —  all  he  had  meant  to  say  to 
her  rose  to  his  lips,  but  he  only  said,  "  Must  you  go?" 

"  I  must.  My  little  sister  marries.  I  have  timed  my  visit  so 
as  to  arrive  just  for  the  wedding  —  like  a  fairy  godmother."  She 
smiled  wistfully. 

"  Then  you  will  live  with  your  people,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"I  suppose  so.  I  dare  say  I  shall  become  quite  good  again. 
Ah,  your  new  Judaisms  will  never  appeal  like  the  old,  with  all  its 
imperfections.  They  will  never  keep  the  race  together  through 
shine  and  shade  as  that  did.  They  do  but  stave  off  the  inevi- 
table dissolution.  It  is  beautiful  —  that  old  childlike  faith  in  the 
pillar  of  cloud  by  day  and  the  pillar  of  fire  by  night,  that  patient 
waiting  through  the  centuries  for  the  Messiah  who  even  to  you, 
I  dare  say,  is  a  mere  symbol."  Again  the  wistful  look  lit  up  her 
eyes.  "That's  what  you  rich  people  will  never  understand  —  it 
doesn't  seem  to  go  with  dinners  in  seven  courses,  somehow." 

"  Oh,  but  I  do  understand,"  he  protested.  "  It's  what  I  told 
Strelitski,  who  is  all  for  intellect  in  religion.  He  is  going  to 
America,  too,"  he  said,  with  a  sudden  pang  of  jealous  appre- 
hension. 

"On  a  holiday?" 

"  No  ;  he  is  going  to  resign  his  ministry  here." 

"What!     Has  he  got  a  better  offer  from  America?  " 

"Still  so  cruel  to  him,"  he  said  reprovingly.  "He  is  resign- 
ing for  conscience'  sake." 

"After  all  these  years?"  she  queried  sarcastically. 

"Miss  Ansell,  you  wrong  him!  He  was  not  happy  in  his 
position.  You  were  right  so  far.  But  he  cannot  endure  his 
shackles  any  longer.  And  it  is  you  who  have  inspired  him  to 
break  them  " 

"  I  ? "  she  exclaimed,  startled. 

"  Yes,  I  told  him  why  you  had  left  Mrs.  Henry  Goldsmith's  — 
it  seemed  to  act  like  an  electrical  stimulus.  Then  and  there  he 
made  me  write  a  paragraph  announcing  his  resignation.  It  will 
appear  to-morrow." 

Esther's  eyes  filled  with  soft  light.     She  walked  on  in  silence  : 


LOVE'S   TEMPTATION.  533 

then,  noticing  she  had  automatically  walked  too  much  in  the 
direction  of  her  place  of  concealment,  she  came  to  an  abrupt 
stop. 

"We  must  part  here/'  she  said.  "If  I  ever  come  across  my 
old  shepherd  in  America,  I  will  be  nicer  to  him.  It  is  really 
quite  heroic  of  him  —  you  must  have  exaggerated  my  own  petty 
sacrifice  alarmingly  if  it  really  supplied  him  with  inspiration. 
What    is  he  going  to  do    in  America?" 

"  To  preach  a  universal  Judaism.  He  is  a  born  idealist ;  his 
ideas  have  always  such  a  magnificent  sweep.  Years  ago  he 
wanted  all  the  Jews  to  return  to  Palestine." 

Esther  smiled  faintly,  not  at  Strelitski,  but  at  Raphael's  call- 
ing another  man  an  idealist.  She  had  never  yet  done  justice  to 
the  strain  of  common-sense  that  saved  him  from  being  a  great 
man ;  he  and  the  new  Strelitski  were  of  one  breed  to  her. 

"  He  will  make  Jews  no  happier  and  Christians  no  wiser,"  she 
said  sceptically.  "  The  great  populations  will  sweep  on,  as  little 
affected  by  the  Jews  as  this  crowd  by  you  and  me.  The  world 
will  not  go  back  on  itself — rather  will  Christianity  transform 
itself  and  take  the  credit.  We  are  such  a  handful  of  outsiders. 
Judaism — old  or  new  —  is  a  forlorn  hope." 

"  The  forlorn  hope  will  yet  save  the  world,"  he  answered 
quietly,  "but  it  has  first  to   be  saved  to  the  world." 

"  Be  happy  in  your  hope,"  she  said  gently.  "  Good-bye." 
She  held  out  her  little  hand.     He  had  no  option  but  to  take  it. 

"  But  we  are  not  going  to  part  like  this,"  he  said  desperately. 
"  I  shall  see  you  again  before  you  go  to  America?  " 

"No,  why  should  you?" 

"  Because  I  love  you,"  rose  to  his  lips.  But  the  avowal  seemed 
too  plump.     He  prevaricated  by  retorting,  "  Why  should  I  not?  " 

"  Because  I  fear  you,"  was  in  her  heart,  but  nothing  rose  to  her 
lips.  He  looked  into  her  eyes  to  read  an  answer  there,  but  she 
dropped  them.     He  saw  his  opportunity. 

"  Why  should  I  not  ?  "  he  repeated. 

"  Your  time  is  valuable,"  she  said  faintly. 

"I  could  not  spend  it  better  than  with  you,"  he  answered 
boldly. 


534  GRANDCHILDREN   OF   THE    GHETTO. 

"Please  don't  insist,"  she  said  in  distress. 

"  But  I  shall ;  I  am  your  friend.  So  far  as  I  know,  you  are 
lonely.  If  you  are  bent  upon  going  away,  why  deny  me  the 
pleasure  of  the  society  I  am  about  to  lose  for  ever? " 

"Oh,  how  can  you  call  it  a  pleasure  —  such  poor  melancholy 
company  as  I  am !  " 

"  Such  poor  melancholy  company  that  I  came  expressly  to 
seek  it,  for  some  one  told  me  you  were  at  the  Museum.  Such 
poor  melancholy  company  that  if  I  am  robbed  of  it  life  will  be  a 
blank." 

He  had  not  let  go  her  hand ;  his  tones  were  low  and  passion-^ 
ate ;  the  heedless  traffic  of  the  sultry  London  street  was  all 
about  them. 

Esther  trembled  from  head  to  foot ;  she  could  not  look  at 
him.  There  was  no  mistaking  his  meaning  now ;  her  breast 
was  a  whirl  of  delicious  pain. 

But  in  proportion  as  the  happiness  at  her  beck  and  call  dazzled 
her,  so  she  recoiled  from  it.  Bent  on  self-effacement,  attuned  to 
the  peace  of  despair,  she  almost  resented  the  solicitation  to  be 
happy ;  she  had  suff'ered  so  much  that  she  had  grown  to  think 
suffering  her  natural  element,  out  of  which  she  could  not  breathe  ; 
she  was  almost  in  love  with  misery.  And  in  so  sad  a  world  was 
there  not  something  ignoble  about  happiness,  a  seltish  aloofness 
from  the  life  of  humanity?  And,  illogically  blent  with  this  ques- 
tioning, and  strengthening  her  recoil,  was  an  obstinate  conviction 
that  there  could  never  be  happiness  for  her,  a  being  of  ignomini- 
ous birth,  without  roots  in  life,  futile,  shadowy,  out  of  relation  to 
the  tangible  solidities  of  ordinary  existence.  To  offer  her  a 
warm  fireside  seemed  to  be  to  tempt  her  to  be  false  to  something 
—  she  knew  not  what.  Perhaps  it  was  because  the  warm  fireside 
was  in  the  circle  she  had  quitted,  and  her  heart  was  yet  bitter 
against  it,  finding  no  palliative  even  in  the  thought  of  a  trium- 
phant return.  She  did  not  belong  to  it ;  she  was  not  of  Raphael's 
world.  But  she  felt  grateful  to  the  point  of  tears  for  his  incom- 
prehensible love  for  a  plain,  penniless,  low-born  girl.  Surely,  it 
was  only  his  chivalry.  Other  men  had  not  found  her  attractive. 
Sidney  had  not ;  Levi  only  fancied  himself  in  love.     And   yet 


LOVE'S    TEMPTATION.  535 

beneath  all  her  humility  was  a  sense  of  being  loved  for  the  best 
in  her,  for  the  hidden  qualities  Raphael  alone  had  the  insight  to 
divine.  She  could  never  think  so  meanly  of  herself  or  of  hu- 
manity again.  He  had  helped  and  strengthened  her  for  her 
lonely  future ;  the  remembrance  of  him  would  always  be  an 
inspiration,  and  a  reminder  of  the  nobler  side  of  human  nature. 

All  this  contradictory  medley  of  thought  and  feeling  occupied 
but  a  few  seconds  of  consciousness.  She  answered  him  without 
any  perceptible  pause,  lightly  enough. 

"  Really,  Mr.  Leon,  I  don't  expect  you  to  say  such  things. 
Why  should  we  be  so  conventional,  you  and  I  ?  How-  can  your 
life  be  a  blank,  with  Judaism  yet  to  be  saved?" 

"  Who  am  I  to  save  Judaism  ?  I  want  to  save  you,"  he  said 
passionately. 

''  What  a  descent !  For  heaven's  sake,  stick  to  your  earlier 
ambition! " 

''■  No,  the  two  are  one  to  me.  Somehow  you  seem  to  stand 
for  Judaism,  too.  I  cannot  disentwine  my  hopes  ;  I  have  come 
to  conceive  your  life  as  an  allegory  of  Judaism,  the  offspring  of 
a  great  and  tragic  past  with  the  germs  of  a  rich  blossoming,  yet 
wasting  with  an  inward  canker  I  have  grown  to  think  of  its 
future  as  somehow  bound  up  with  yours.  I  want  to  see  your 
eyes  laughing,  the  shadows  lifted  from  your  brow ;  I  want  to 
see  you  face  life  courageously,  not  in  passionate  revolt  nor  in 
passionless  despair,  but  in  faith  and  hope  and  the  joy  that 
springs  from  them.  I  want  you  to  seek  peace,  not  in  a  despair- 
ing surrender  of  the  intellect  to  the  faith  of  childhood,  but  in 
that  faith  intellectually  justified.  And  while  I  want  to  help  you, 
and  to  fill  your  life  with  the  sunshine  it  needs,  I  want  you  to  help 
me,  to  inspire  me  when  I  falter,  to  complete  my  life,  to  make  me 
happier  than  I  had  ever  dreamed.  Be  my  wife,  Esther.  Let  me 
save  you  from  yourself." 

'•  Let  me  save  you  from  yourself,  Raphael.  Is  it  wise  to  w^ed 
with  the  gray  spirit  of  the  Ghetto  that  doubts  itself? " 

And  like  a  spirit  she  glided  from  his  grasp  and  disappeared  in 
the  crowd. 


536  GRANDCHILDREN  OF  THE    GHETTO. 

CHAPTER   XVII. 

THE   PRODIGAL   SON 

The  New  Year  dawned  upon  the  Ghetto,  heralded  by  a  month 
of  special  matins  and  the  long-sustained  note  of  the  ram's  horn. 
It  was  in  the  midst  of  the  Ten  Days  of  Repentance  which  find 
their  awful  climax  in  the  Day  of  Atonement  that  a  strange  letter 
for  Hannah  came  to  startle  the  breakfast-table  at  Reb  ShemuePs. 
Hannah  read  it  with  growing  pallor  and  perturbation. 

"What  is  the  matter,  my  dear?^'  asked  the  Reb,  anxiously. 

"  Oh,  father,*'  she  cried,  '■-  read  this!     Bad  news  of  Levi." 

A  spasm  of  pain  contorted  the  old  man's  furrowed  counte- 
nance. 

'•  Mention  not  his  name!"  he  said  harshly      "  He  is  dead.'' 

"  He  may  be  by  now!  "  Hannah  exclaimed  agitatedly.  "  You 
were  right,  Esther.  He  did  join  a  strolling  company,  and  now 
he  is  laid  up  with  typhoid  in  the  hospital  in  Stockbridge.  One 
of  his  friends  writes  to  tell  us.  He  must  have  caught  it  in  one 
of  those  insanitary  dressing-rooms  we  were  reading  about." 

Esther  trembled  all  over.  The  scene  in  the  garret  wlien  the 
fatal  telegram  came  announcing  Benjamin's  illness  had  never 
faded  from  her  mind.  She  had  an  instant  conviction  that  it 
was  all  over  with  poor  Levi. 

"My  poor  lamb!"  cried  the  Rebbitzin,  the  coffee-cup  drop- 
ping from  her  nerveless  hand. 

"  Simcha,"  said  Reb  Shemuel  sternly,  "  calm  thyself;  we  have 
no  son  to  lose.  The  Holy  One  —  blessed  be  He! — hath  taken 
him  from  us.  The  Lord  giveth,  and  the  Lord  taketh.  Blessed 
be  the  name  of  the  Lord." 

Hannah  rose.  Her  face  was  white  and  resolute.  She  moved 
towards  the  door. 

"Whither  goest  thou?"  inquired  her  father  in  German. 

"  I  am  going  to  my  room,  to  put  on  my  hat  and  jacket,"  replied 
Hannah  quietly. 

"Whither  goest  thou?"  repeated  Reb  Shemuel. 


THE   PRODIGAL   SON.  637 

"To  Stockbridge.     Mother,  you  and  I  must  go  at  once." 

The  Reb  sprang  to  his  feet.  His  brow  was  dark ;  his  eyes 
gleamed  with  anger  and  pain. 

"  Sit  down  and  finish  thy  breakfast/'  he  said. 

"  How  can  I  eat?  Levi  is  dying/'  said  Hannah,  in  low,  firm 
tones.     "Will  you  come,  mother,  or  must  I  go  alone?  " 

The  Rebbitzin  began  to  wring  her  hands  and  weep.  Esther 
stole  gently  to  Hannah's  side  and  pressed  the  poor  girl's  hand. 
"  You  and  I  will  go,"  her  clasp  said. 

"Hannah!"  said  Reb  Shemuel.  "What  madness  is  this? 
Dost  thou  think  thy  mother  will  obey  thee  rather  than  her 
husband? " 

"Levi  is  dying.  It  is  our  duty  to  go  to  him."  Hannah's 
gentle  face  was  rigid.  But  there  was  exaltation  rather  than  defi- 
ance in  the  eyes. 

"  It  is  not  the  duty  of  women,"  said  Reb  Shemuel  harshly. 
"  I  will  go  to  Stockbridge.  If  he  dies  (God  have  mercy  upon 
his  soul!)  1  will  see  that  he  is  buried  among  his  own  people. 
Thou  knowest  women  go  not  to  funerals. "  He  reseated  himself 
at  the  table,  pushing  aside  his  scarcely  touched  meal,  and  began 
saying  the  grace.  Dominated  by  his  will  and  by  old  habit,  the 
three  trembling  women  remained  in  reverential  silence. 

"  The  Lord  will  give  strength  to  His  people  ;  the  Lord  will 
bless  His  people  with  Peace,"  concluded  the  old  man  in  unfalter- 
ing accents.  He  rose  from  the  table  and  strode  to  the  door, 
stern  and  erect  "Thou  wilt  remain  here,  Hannah,  and  thou, 
Simcha,"  he  said.  In  the  passage  his  shoulders  relaxed  their 
stiiiness,  so  that  the  long  snow-white  beard  drooped  upon  his 
breast.     The  three  women  looked  at  one  another. 

"  Mother,"  said  Hannah,  passionately  breaking  the  silence, 
"are  you  going  to  stay  here  while  Levi  is  dying  in  a  strange 
town  ? " 

"  My  husband  wills  it,"  said  the  Rebbitzin,  sobbing.  "  Levi  is 
a  sinner  in  Israel.  Thy  father  will  not  see  him  ;  he  will  not  go  to 
him  till  he  is  dead." 

"  Oh  yes,  surely  he  will,"  said  Esther.  "  But  be  comforted. 
Levi  is  young  and  strong.     Let  us  hope  he  will  pull  through." 


538  GRANDCHILDREN   OF   THE    GHETTO. 

"No,  no!"  moaned  the  Rebbitzin.  "He  will  die,  and  my 
husband  will  but  read  the  psalms  at  his  death-bed.  He  will  not 
forgive  him  ;  he  will  not  speak  to  him  of  his  mother  and  sister." 

"  Let  7ne  go.     I  will  give  him  your  messages,"  said  Esther. 

"No,  no,"  interrupted  Hannah.  "What  are  you  to  him? 
Why  should  you  risk  infection  for  our  sakes?" 

"  Go,  Hannah,  but  secretly,"  said  the  Rebbitzin  in  a  wailing 
whisper.  "  Let  not  thy  father  see  thee  till  thou  arrive  ;  then  he 
will  not  send  thee  back.  Tell  Levi  that  I  —  oh,  my  poor  child, 
my  poor  lamb!  "     Sobs  overpowered  her  speech. 

"  No,  mother,"  said  Hannah  quietly,  "  thou  and  I  shall  go.  I 
will  tell  father  we  are  accompanying  him." 

She  left  the  room,  while  the  Rebbitzin  fell  weeping  and  terri- 
fied into  a  chair,  and  Esther  vainly  endeavored  to  soothe  her. 
The  Reb  was  changing  his  coat  when  Hannah  knocked  at  the 
door  and  called  "  Father, " 

"  Speak  not  to  me,  Hannah,"  answered  the  Reb,  roughly.  "  It 
is  useless."  Then,  as  if  repentant  of  his  tone,  he  threw  open  the 
door,  and  passed  his  great  trembling  hand  lovingly  over  her  hair. 
"Thou  art  a  good  daughter,"  he  said  tenderly.  "Forget  that 
thou  hast  had  a  brother." 

"  But  how  can  I  forget?  "  she  answered  him  in  his  own  idiom. 
"Why  should  I  forget?     What  hath  he  done? " 

He  ceased  to  smooth  her  hair — his  voice  grew  sad  and  stern. 

"  He  hath  profaned  the  Name.  He  hath  lived  like  a  heathen  ; 
he  dieth  like  a  heathen  now.  His  blasphemy  was  a  by-word  in 
the  congregation.  I  alone  knew  it  not  till  last  Passover.  He 
hath  brought  down  my  gray  hairs  in  sorrow  to  the  grave." 

"  Yes,  father,  I  know,"  said  Hannah,  more  gently.  "  But  he 
is  not  all  to  blame!  " 

"  Thou  meanest  that  I  am  not  guiltless ;  that  I  should  have 
kept  him  at  my  side?  "  said  the  Reb,  his  voice  faltering  a  little. 

"  No,  father,  not  that!  Levi  could  not  always  be  a  baby.  He 
had  to  walk  alone  some  day." 

"Yes,  and  did  I  not  teach  him  to  walk  alone?  "  asked  the  Reb 
eagerly.  "  My  God,  thou  canst  not  say  I  did  not  teach  him  Thy 
Law,  day  and  night."     He  uplifted  his  eyes  in  anguished  appeal. 


THE  PRODIGAL   SON.  539 

"  Yes,  but  he  is  not  all  to  blame,'"  she  repeated.  "  Thy  teach- 
ing did  not  reach  his  soul ;  he  is  of  another  generation,  the  air  is 
different,  his  life  was  cast  amid  conditions  for  which  the  Law 
doth  not  allow." 

"  Hannah ! ''  Reb  ShemuePs  accents  became  harsh  and  chiding 
again.  "What  sayest  thou?  The  Law  of  Moses  is  eternal;  it 
will  never  be  changed.  Levi  knew  God's  commandments,  but 
he  followed  the  desire  of  his  own  heart  and  his  own  eyes.  If 
God's  Word  were  obeyed,  he  should  have  been  stoned  with 
stones.  But  Heaven  itself  hath  punished  him  ;  he  will  die,  for 
it  is  ordained  that  whosoever  is  stubborn  and  disobedient,  that 
soul  shall  surely  be  cut  off"  from  among  his  people.  ^  Keep  My 
commandments,  that  thy  days  may  be  long  in  the  land,'  God 
Himself  hath  said  it.  Is  it  not  written  :  '  Rejoice,  O  young  man, 
in  thy  youth,  and  let  thy  heart  cheer  thee  in  the  days  of  thy 
youth,  and  walk  in  the  ways  of  thine  heart  and  in  the  sight  of 
thine  eyes ;  but  know  thou  that  for  all  these  things  the  Lord 
will  bring  thee  into  judgment'?  But  thou,  my  Hannah,"  he 
started  caressing  her  hair  again,  ''art  a  good  Jewish  maiden. 
Between  Levi  and  thee  there  is  naught  in  common.  His  touch 
would  profane  thee.  Sadden  not  thy  innocent  eyes  with  the 
sight  of  his  end.  Think  of  him  as  one  who  died  in  boyhood. 
My  God!  why  didst  thou  not  take  him  then?  "  He  turned  away, 
stifling  a  sob. 

"  Father,"  she  put  her  hand  on  his  shoulder,  "we  will  go  with 
thee  to  Stockbridge  —  I  and  the  mother." 

He  faced  her  again,  stern  and  rigid. 

"  Cease  thy  entreaties.     I  will  go  alone." 

"No,  we  will  all  go." 

"  Hannah,"  he  said,  his  voice  tremulous  with  pain  and  aston- 
ishment, "dost  thou,  too,  set  light  by  thy  father?" 

"  Yes,"  she  cried,  and  there  was  no  answering  tremor  in  her 
voice.  "Now  thou  knowest!  I  am  not  a  good  Jewish  maiden. 
Levi  and  I  are  brother  and  sister.  His  touch  profane  me,  for- 
sooth! "     She  laughed  bitterly. 

"Thou  wilt  take  this  journey  though  I  forbid  thee?"  he  cried 
in  acrid  accents,  still  mingled  with  surprise. 


540  GRANDCHILDREN   OF   THE    GHETTO. 

"  Yes ;  would  I  had  taken  the  journey  thou  wouldst  have  for- 
bidden ten  years  ago!" 

"  What  journey?  thou  talkest  madness." 

"  I  talk  truth.  Thou  hast  forgotten  David  Brandon ;  I  have 
not.  Ten  years  last  Passover  I  arranged  to  fly  with  him,  to 
marry  him,  in  defiance  of  the  Law  and  thee." 

A  new  pallor  overspread  the  Reb's  countenance,  already  ashen. 
He  trembled  and  almost  fell  backwards. 

"  But  thou  didst  not?  "  he  whispered  hoarsely. 

"  I  did  not,  I  know  not  why,"  she  said  sullenly ;  "  else  thou 
wouldst  never  have  seen  me  again.  It  may  be  I  respected  thy 
religion,  although  thou  didst  not  dream  what  was  in  my  mind. 
But  thy  religion  shall  not  keep  me  from  this  journey." 

The  Reb  had  hidden  his  face  in  his  hands.  His  lips  were 
moving :  was  it  in  grateful  prayer,  in  self-reproach,  or  merely 
in  nervous  trembling?  Hannah  never  knew.  Presently  the  Reb's 
arms  dropped,  great  tears  rolled  down  towards  the  white  beard. 
When  he  spoke,  his  tones  were  hushed  as  with  awe. 

''This  man  —  tell  me,  my  daughter,  thou  lovest  him  still?" 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders  with  a  gesture  of  reckless  despair. 

"  What  does  it  matter?     My  life  is  but  a  shadow." 

The  Reb  took  her  to  his  breast,  though  she  remained  stony  to 
his  touch,  and  laid  his  wet  face  against  her  burning  cheeks. 

"My  child,  my  poor  Hannah  I  I  thought  God  had  sent  thee 
peace  ten  years  ago ;  that  He  had  rewarded  thee  for  thy  obedi- 
ence to  His  Law." 

She  drew  her  face  away  from  his. 

"  It  was  not  His  Law ;  it  was  a  miserable  juggling  with  texts. 
Thou  alone  interpretedst  God's  law  thus.  No  one  knew  of  the 
matter." 

He  could  not  argue ;  the  breast  against  which  \\z  held  her  was 
shaken  by  a  tempest  of  grief,  which  swept  away  all  save  human 
remorse,  human  love. 

"My  daughter,"  he  sobbed,  "I  have  ruined  thy  life!"  After 
an  agonized  pause,  he  said :  "  Tell  me,  Hannah,  is  there  nothing 
I  can  do  to  make  atonement  to  thee?" 

"  Only  one  thing,  father,"  she  articulated  chokingly ;  "  forgive 
Levi."  ' 


THE  PRODIGAL   SON.  541 

There  was  a  moment  of  solemn  silence.     Then  the  Reb  spake. 

"  Tell  thy  mother  to  put  on  her  things  and  take  what  she 
needs  for  the  journey.     Perchance  we  may  be  away  for  days." 

They  mingled  their  tears  in  sweet  reconciliation.  Presently, 
the  Reb  said : 

''  Go  now  to  thy  mother,  and  see  also  that  the  boy's  room  be 
made  ready  as  of  old.  Perchance  God  will  hear  my  prayer,  and 
he  will  yet  be  restored  to  us." 

A  new  peace  fell  upon  Hannah's  soul.  ''  My  sacrifice  was  not 
in  vain  after  all,"  she  thought,  with  a  throb  of  happiness  that  was 
almost  exultation. 

But  Levi  never  came  back.  The  news  of  his  death  arrived  on 
the  eve  of  Yoni  Kippiir^  the  Day  of  Atonement,  in  a  letter  to 
Esther  who  had  been  left  in  charge  of  the  house. 

"  He  died  quietly  at  the  end,"  Hannah  wrote,  "  happy  in  the 
consciousness  of  father's  forgiveness,  and  leaning  trustfully  upon 
his  interposition  with  Heaven ;  but  he  had  delirious  moments, 
during  which  he  raved  painfully.  The  poor  boy  was  in  great 
fear  of  death,  moaning  prayers  that  he  might  be  spared  till  after 
Yoni  Kippur,  when  he  would  be  cleansed  of  sin,  and  babbling 
about  serpents  that  would  twine  themselves  round  his  arm  and 
brow,  like  the  phylacteries  he  had  not  worn.  He  made  father 
repeat  his  '  Verse '  to  him  over  and  over  again,  so  that  he  might 
remember  his  name  when  the  angel  of  the  grave  asked  it ;  and 
borrowed  father's  phylacteries,  the  headpiece  of  which  was  much 
too  large  for  him  with  his  shaven  crown.  When  he  had  them 
on,  and  the  Talith  round  him,  he  grew  easier,  and  began  mur- 
muring the  death-bed  prayers  with  father.  One  of  them  runs  : 
'  O  may  my  death  be  an  atonement  for  all  the  sins,  iniquities  and 
transgressions  of  which  I  have  been  guilty  against  Thee!'  I 
trust  it  may  be  so  indeed.  It  seems  so  hard  for  a  young  man 
full  of  life  and  high  spirits  to  be  cut  down,  while  the  wretched 
are  left  alive.  Your  name  was  often  on  his  lips.  I  was  glad  to 
learn  he  thought  so  much  of  you.  '  Be  sure  to  give  Esther  my 
love,'  he  said  almost  with  his  last  breath,  'and  ask  her  to  forgive 
me.'  I  know  not  if  you  have  anything  to  forgive,  or  whether 
this  was  delirium.     He  looks  quite  calm  now  —  but  oh!  so  worn. 


642  GRANDCHILDREN  OF   THE    GHETTO. 

They  have  closed  the  eyes.  The  beard  he  shocked  father  so  by 
shaving  off,  has  sprouted  scrubbily  during  his  ilhiess.  On  the 
dead  face  it  seems  a  mockery,  like  the  Talith  and  phylacteries 
that  have  not  been  removed.'" 

A  phrase  of  Leonard  James  vibrated  in  Esther's  ears  :  "  If  the 
chappies  could  see  me!  " 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

HOPES   AND   DREAMS. 

The  morning  of  the  Great  White  Fast  broke  bleak  and  gray. 
Esther,  alone  in  the  house  save  for  the  servant,  wandered  from 
room  to  room  in  dull  misery.  The  day  before  had  been  almost 
a  feast-day  in  the  Ghetto  —  everybody  providing  for  the  mor- 
row. Esther  had  scarcely  eaten  anything.  Nevertheless  she 
was  fasting,  and  would  fast  for  over  twenty-four  hours,  till  the 
night  fell.  She  knew  not  why.  Her  record  was  unbroken,  and 
instinct  resented  a  breach  now.  She  had  always  fasted  —  even 
the  Henry  Goldsmiths  fasted,  and  greater  than  the  Henry  Gold- 
smiths! Q.  C.'s  fasted,  and  peers,  and  prize-fighters  and  actors. 
And  yet  Esther,  like  many  far  more  pious  persons,  did  not  think 
of  her  sins  for  a  moment.  She  thought  of  everything  but  them 
—  of  the  bereaved  family  in  that  strange  provincial  town  ;  of  her 
own  family  in  that  strange  distant  land.  Well,  she  would  soon 
be  with  them  now.  Her  passage  was  booked  —  a  steerage  pas- 
sage it  was,  not  because  she  could  not  afford  cabin  fare,  but  from 
her  morbid  impulse  to  identify  herself  with  poverty.  The  same 
impulse  led  her  to  choose  a  vessel  in  which  a  party  of  Jewish 
pauper  immigrants  was  being  shipped  farther  West.  She  thought 
also  of  Dutch  Debby,  w'ith  whom  she  had  spent  the  previous 
evening ;  and  of  Raphael  Leon,  who  had  sent  her,  via  the  pub- 
lishers, a  letter  which  she  could  not  trust  herself  to  answer 
cruelly,  and  which  she  deemed  it  most  prudent  to  leave  unan- 
swered. Uncertain  of  her  powers  of  resistance,  she  scarcely 
ventured  outside  the  house  for  fear  of  his  stumbling  across  her. 


HOPES  AND  DREAMS.  543 

Happily,  every  day  diminished  tlie  cliance  of  her  whereabouts 
leaking  out  through  some  unsuspected  channel. 

About  noon,  her  restlessness  carried  her  into  the  streets. 
There  was  a  festal  solemnity  about  the  air.  Women  and  chil- 
dren, not  at  synagogue,  showed  themselves  at  the  doors,  pranked 
in  their  best.  Indifferently  pious  young  men  sought  relief  from 
the  ennui  of  the  day-long  service  in  lounging  about  for  a  breath 
of  fresh  air ;  some  even  strolled  towards  the  Strand,  and  turned 
into  the  National  Gallery,  satisfied  to  reappear  for  the  twilight 
service.  On  all  sides  came  the  fervent  roar  of  prayer  which 
indicated  a  synagogue  or  a  Chevra/i,  the  number  of  places  of 
worship  having  been  indefinitely  increased  to  accommodate  those 
who  made  their  appearance  for  this  occasion  only. 

Everywhere  friends  and  neighbors  were  asking  one  another 
how  they  were  bearing  the  fast,  exhibiting  their  white  tongues 
and  generally  comparing  symptoms,  the  physical  aspects  of  the 
Day  of  Atonement  more  or  less  completely  diverting  attention 
from  the  spiritual.  Smelling-salts  passed  from  hand  to  hand, 
and  men  explained  to  one  another  that,  but  for  the  deprivation 
of  their  cigars,  they  could  endure  Vcvn  Kippur  with  complacency. 

Esther  passed  the  Ghetto  school,  within  which  free  services 
were  going  on  even  in  the  playground,  poor  Russians  and  Poles, 
fanatically  observant,  foregathering  with  lax  fishmongers  and 
welshers ;  and  without  which  hulking  young  men  hovered  un- 
easily, feeling  too  out  of  tune  with  religion  to  go  in,  too  con- 
scious of  the  terrors  of  the  day  to  stay  entirely  away.  From 
the  interior  came  from  sunrise  to  nightfall  a  throbbing  thunder 
of  supplication,  now  pealing  in  passionate  outcry,  now  subsid- 
ing to  a  low  rumble.  The  sounds  of  prayer  that  pervaded  the 
Ghetto,  and  burst  upon  her  at  every  turn,  wrought  upon  Esther 
strangely ;  all  her  soul  went  out  in  sympathy  with  these  yearn- 
ing outbursts ;  she  stopped  every  now  and  then  to  listen,  as  in 
those  far-off  days  when  the  Sons  of  the  Covenant  drew  her  with 
their  melancholy  cadences. 

At  last,  moved  by  an  irresistible  instinct,  she  crossed  the 
threshold  of  a  large  Chevrah  she  had  known  in  her  girlhood, 
mounted  the  stairs  and  entered  the  female  compartment  without 


544  GRANDCHILDREN   OF   THE    GHETTO. 

hostile  challenge.  The  reek  of  many  breaths  and  candles  nearly 
drove  her  back,  but  she  pressed  forwards  towards  a  remembered 
window,  through  a  crowd  of  be-wigged  women,  shaking  their 
bodies  fervently  to  and  fro^ 

This  room  had  no  connection  with  the  men's  ;  it  was  simply 
the  room  above  part  of  theirs,  and  the  declamations  of  the  un- 
seen cantor  came  but  faintly  through  the  flooring,  though  the 
clamor  of  the  general  masculine  chorus  kept  the  pious  an  cour- 
ani  with  their  husbands.  When  weather  or  the  whims  of  the 
more  important  ladies  permitted,  the  window  at  the  end  was 
opened ;  it  gave  upon  a  little  balcony,  below  which  the  men's 
chamber  projected  considerably,  having  been  built  out  into 
the  back  yard.  When  this  window  was  opened  simultaneously 
with  the  skylight  in  the  men's  synagogue,  the  fervid  roulades 
of  the  cantor  were  as  audible  to  the  women  as  to  their  masters. 

Esther  had  always  affected  the  balcony ;  there  the  air  w^as 
comparatively  fresh,  and  on  fine  days  there  was  a  glimpse  of 
blue  sky,  and  a  perspective  of  sunny  red  tiles,  where  brown 
birds  fluttered  and  cats  lounged  and  little  episodes  arose  to 
temper  the  tedium  of  endless  invocation  ;  and  farther  off  there 
was  a  back  view  of  a  nunnery,  with  visions  of  placid  black- 
hooded  faces  at  windows ;  and  from  the  distance  came  a  pleas- 
ant drone  of  monosyllabic  spelling  from  fresh  young  voices,  to 
relieve  the  ear  from  the  monotony  of  long  stretches  of  meaning- 
less mumbling. 

Here,  lost  in  a  sweet  melancholy,  Esther  dreamed  away  the 
long  gray  day.  only  vaguely  conscious  of  the  stages  of  the 
service  —  morning  dovetailing  into  afternoon  service,  and  after- 
noon into  evening ;  of  the  heavy-jowled  woman  behind  her 
reciting  a  jargon-version  of  the  Atonement  liturgy  to  a  devout 
coterie ;  of  the  prostrations  full-length  on  the  floor,  and  the 
series  of  impassioned  sermons ;  of  the  interminably  rhyming 
poems,  and  the  acrostics  with  their  recurring  burdens  shouted 
in  devotional  frenzy,  voice  rising  above  voice  as  in  emulation, 
with  special  staccato  phrases  flung  heavenwards ;  of  the  wailing 
confessions  of  communal  sin,  with  their  accompaniment  of  sobs 
and  tears  and   howls  and   grimaces   and    clenchings    of  palms 


HOPES  AND   DREAMS.  545 

and  beatings  of  the  breast.  She  was  lapped  in  a  great  ocean 
of  sound  that  broI<:e  upon  her  consciousness  like  the  waves  upon 
a  beach,  now  with  a  cooing  murmur,  now  with  a  majestic  crash, 
followed  by  a  long  receding  moan.  She  lost  herself  in  the  roar, 
in  its  barren  sensuousness,  while  the  leaden  sky  grew  duskier 
and  the  twilight  crept  on,  and  the  awful  hour  drew  nigh  when 
God  would  seal  what  He  had  written,  and  the  annual  scrolls  of 
destiny  would  be  closed,  immutable.  She  saw  them  looming 
mystically  through  the  skylight,  the  swaying  forms  below,  in 
their  white  grave-clothes,  oscillating  weirdly  backwards  and 
forwards,  bowed  as  by  a  mighty  wind. 

Suddenly  there  fell  a  vast  silence ;  even  from  without  no 
sound  came  to  break  the  awful  stillness.  It  was  as  if  all  creation 
paused  to  hear  a  pregnant  word. 

"Hear,  O  Israel,  the  Lord  our  God,  the  Lord  is  One!"  sang 
the  cantor  frenziedly. 

And  all  the  ghostly  congregation  answered  with  a  great  cry, 
closing  their  eyes  and  rocking  frantically  to  and  fro : 

"  Hear,  O  Israel,  the  Lord  our  God,  the  Lord  is  One!" 

They  seemed  like  a  great  army  of  the  sheeted  dead  risen  to 
testify  to  the  Unity.  The  magnetic  tremor  that  ran  through  the 
synagogue  thrilled  the  lonely  girl  to  the  core ;  once  again  her 
dead  self  woke,  her  dead  ancestors  that  would  not  be  shaken 
off  lived  and  moved  in  her.  She  was  sucked  up  into  the  great 
wave  of  passionate  faith,  and  from  her  lips  came,  in  rapturous 
surrender  to  an  overmastering  impulse,  the  half-hysterical  pro- 
testation : 

"  Hear,  O  Israel,  the  Lord  our  God,  the  Lord  is  One!  " 

And  then  in  the  brief  instant  while  the  congregation,  with 
ever-ascending  rhapsody,  blessed  God  till  the  climax  came  with 
the  sevenfold  declaration,  "  the  Lord,  He  is  God,"  the  whole 
history  of  her  strange,  unhappy  race  flashed  through  her  mind 
in  a  whirl  of  resistless  emotion.  She  was  overwhelmed  by  the 
thought  of  its  sons  in  every  corner  of  the  earth  proclaiming  to 
the  sombre  twilight  sky  the  belief  for  which  its  generations  had 
lived  and  died  —  the  Jews  of  Russia  sobbing  it  forth  in  their 
pale  of  enclosure,  the  Jews  of  Morocco  in  their  mellah,  and  of 

2  N 


546  GRANDCHILDREN  OF  THE    GHETTO. 

South  Africa  in  their  tents  by  the  diamond  mines ;  the  Jews 
of  the  New  World  in  great  free  cities,  in  Canadian  backwoods, 
in  South  American  savannahs ;  the  AustraHan  Jews  on  the 
sheep-farms  and  the  gold-fields  and  in  the  mushroom  cities  ; 
the  Jews  of  Asia  in  their  reeking  quarters  begirt  by  barbarian 
populations.  The  shadow  of  a  large  mysterious  destiny  seemed 
to  hang  over  these  poor  superstitious  zealots,  whose  lives  she 
knew  so  well  in  all  their  everyday  prose,  and  to  invest  the  un- 
conscious shuffling  sons  of  the  Ghetto  with  something  of  tragic 
grandeur.  The  gray  dusk  palpitated  with  floating  shapes  of 
prophets  and  martyrs,  scholars  and  sages  and  poets,  full  of  a 
yearning  love  and  pity,  lifting  hands  of  benediction.  By  what 
great  high-roads  and  queer  by-ways  of  history  had  they  travelled 
hither,  these  wandering  Jews,  '"sated  with  contempt,"  these 
shrewd  eager  fanatics,  these  sensual  ascetics,  these  human  para- 
doxes, adaptive  to  every  environment,  energizing  in  every  field 
of  activity,  omnipresent  like  some  great  natural  force,  inde- 
structible and  almost  inconvertible,  surviving  —  with  the  in- 
curable optimism  that  overlay  all  their  poetic  sadness  —  Babylon 
and  Carthage,  Greece  and  Rome ;  involuntarily  financing  the 
Crusades,  outliving  the  Inquisition,  illusive  of  all  baits,  unshaken 
by  all  persecutions  —  at  once  the  greatest  and  meanest  of  races? 
Had  the  Jew  come  so  far  only  to  break  down  at  last,  sinking  in 
morasses  of  modern  doubt,  and  irresistibly  dragging  down  with 
him  the  Christian  and  the  Moslem ;  or  was  he  yet  fated  to  out- 
last them  both,  in  continuous  testimony  to  a  hand  moulding 
incomprehensibly  the  life  of  humanity?  Would  Israel  develop 
into  the  sacred  phalanx,  the  nobler  brotherhood  that  Raphael 
Leon  had  dreamed  of,  or  would  the  race  that  had  first  proclaimed 
—  through  Moses  for  the  ancient  world,  through  Spinoza  for  the 
modern  — 

"  One  God,  one  Law,  one  Element," 

become,  in  the  larger,  wilder  dream  of  the  Russian  idealist,  the 
main  factor  in 

"  One  far-off  divine  event 
To  which  the  whole  Creation  moves"  ? 


HOPES  AND  DREAMS.  547 

The  roar  dwindled  to  a  solemn  silence,  as  though  in  answer  to 
her  questionings.  Then  the  ram's  horn  shrilled  —  a  stern  long- 
drawn-out  note,  that  rose  at  last  into  a  mighty  peal  of  sacred 
jubilation.     The  Atonement  was  complete. 

The  crowd  bore  Esther  downstairs  and  into  the  blank  indiffer- 
ent street.  But  the  long  exhausting  fast,  the  fetid  atmosphere, 
tlie  strain  upon  her  emotions,  had  overtaxed  her  beyond  endur- 
ance. Up  to  now  the  frenzy  of  the  service  had  sustained  her, 
but  as  she  stepped  across  the  threshold  on  to  the  pavement  she 
staggered  and  fell.  One  of  the  men  pouring  out  from  the  lower 
synagogue  caught  her  in  his  arms.     It  was  Strelitski. 

********** 

A  group  of  three  stood  on  the  saloon  deck  of  an  outward- 
bound  steamer.  Raphael  Leon  was  bidding  farewell  to  the  man 
he  reverenced  without  discipleship,  and  the  woman  he  loved 
without  blindness. 

"Look!"  he  said,  pointing  compassionately  to  the  wretched 
throng  of  Jewish  emigrants  huddling  on  the  lower  deck  and  scat- 
tered about  the  gangway  amid  jostling  sailors  and  stevedores 
and  bales  and  coils  of  rope  ;  the  men  in  peaked  or  fur  caps,  the 
women  with  shawls  and  babies,  some  gazing  upwards  with 
lacklustre  eyes,  the  majority  brooding,  despondent,  apathetic. 
"  How  could  either  of  you  have  borne  the  sights  and  smells  of 
the  steerage?  You  are  a  pair  of  visionaries.  You  could  not 
have  breathed  a  day  in  that  society.     Look!  " 

Strelitski  looked  at  Esther  instead ;  perhaps  he  was  thinking 
he  could  have  breathed  anywhere  in  her  society —  nay,  breathed 
even  more  freely  in  the  steerage  than  in  the  cabin  if  he  had  sailed 
away  without  telling  Raphael  that  he  had  found  her. 

"  You  forget  a  common  impulse  took  us  into  such  society  on 
the  Day  of  Atonement,"  he  answered  after  a  moment.  '•  You 
forget  we  are  both  Children  of  the  Ghetto." 

"  I  can  never  forget  that,"  said  Raphael  fervently,  "  else  Esther 
would  at  this  moment  be  lost  amid  the  human  flotsam  and 
jetsam  below,  sailing  away  without  you  to  protect  her,  without 
me  to  look  forward  to  her  return,  without  Addie''s  bouquet  to 
assure  her  of  a  sister's  love  " 


548  GRANDCHILDREN  OF  THE    GHETTO. 

He  took  Esthers  little  hand  once  more.  It  lingered  confid- 
ingly in  his  own.  There  was  no  ring  of  betrothal  upon  it,  nor 
would  be,  till  Rachel  Ansell  in  America,  and  Addie  Leon  in  Eng- 
land, should  have  passed  under  the  wedding  canopy,  and  Raphael, 
whose  breast  pocket  was  bulging  with  a  new  meerschaum  too 
sacred  to  smoke,  should  startle  the  West  End  with  his  eccentric 
choice,  and  confinn  its  impression  of  his  insanity.  The  trio  had 
said  and  resaid  all  they  had  to  tell  one  another,  all  the  reminders 
and  the  recommendations.  They  stood  without  speaking  now, 
wrapped  in  that  loving  silence  which  is  sweeter  tlian  speech. 

The  sun,  which  had  been  shining  intermittently,  flooded  the 
serried  shipping  with  a  burst  of  golden  light,  that  coaxed  the 
turbid  waves  to  brightness,  and  cheered  the  wan  emigrants,  and 
made  little  children  leap  joyously  in  their  mothers"*  arms.  The 
knell  of  parting  sounded  insistent. 

"  Your  allegory  seems  turning  in  your  favor,  Raphael,''  said 
Esther,  with  a  sudden  memory. 

The  pensive  smile  that  made  her  face  beautiful  lit  up  the  dark 
eyes. 

"What  allegory  is  that  of  Raphael's  ?""  said  Strelitski,  reflect- 
ing her  smile  on  his  graver  visage.  "  The  long  one  in  his  prize 
poem? '' 

"  No,"  said  Raphael,  catching  the  contagious  smile.  "  It  is 
our  little  secret." 

Strelitski  turned  suddenly  to  look  at  the  emigrants.  The 
smile  faded  from  his  quivering  mouth. 

The  last  moment  had  come.  Raphael  stooped  down  towards 
the  gentle  softly-flushing  face,  which  was  raised  unhesitatingly 
to  meet  his,  and  their  lips  met  in  a  first  kiss,  diviner  than  it  is 
given  most  mortals  to  know  —  a  kiss,  sad  and  sweet,  troth  and 
parting  in  one  :  Ave  et  vale,  —  •'  hail  and  farewell." 

"  Good-bye,  Strelitski,"  said  Raphael  huskily.  "  Success  to 
your  dreams." 

The  idealist  turned  round  with  a  start.  His  face  was  bright 
and  resolute  ;  the  black  curl  streamed  buoyantly  on  the  breeze. 

"  Good-bye,""  he  responded,  with  a  giant's  grip  of  the  hand. 
"Success  to  your  hopes." 


HOPES  AND  DREAMS.  549 

Raphael  darted  away  with  his  long  stride.  The  sun  was  still 
bright,  but  for  a  moment  everything  seemed  chill  and  dim  to 
Esther  AnselTs  vision.  With  a  sudden  fit  of  nervous  foreboding 
she  stretched  out  her  arms  towards  the  vanishing  figure  of  her 
lover.  But  she  saw  him  once  again  in  the  tender,  waving  his 
handl:erchief  towards  the  throbbing  vessel  that  glided  with  its 
freight  of  hopes  and  dreams  across  the  great  waters  towards  the 
New  World. 


GLOSSARY. 


H,  =  Hebrew.        G.  =  German. 


Gk.  =  Greek. 
c.  =  corrupt. 


R.  =  Russian.        S.  =  Spanish. 


Achi-nebbich  {etymology  obscure), 
Alas,  poor  thing(s). 

Afikuman  {Hebraicized  Gk.),  por- 
tion of  a  Passover  cake  taken  at 
the  end  of  Sedermeal  {q.v.). 

Agadah  (//.),  narrative  portion  of 
the  Tahiiud;   Passover-eve  ritual. 

Amidah  (//.),  series  of  Benedictions 
said  standing. 

Arbah  Kanfus  (//.),  lit.,  four  corners ; 
a  garment  consisting  of  two  shoul- 
derstraps  supporting  a  front  and 
back  piece  with  fringes  at  each 
corner  (Numbers  xv.  37-41). 

Ashkenazim  (//.),  German;  hence, 
also,  Russian  and  Polish  Jews. 

Badchan  (//.),  professional  jester, 
Bensh  (?),  say  grace. 
Beth  Din  {H.),  court  of  judgment. 
Beth  Medrash  (//.),  college. 
Bube  {G.),  grandmother. 

Cabbalah  (//.),  Cabbulah  {c),  lit., 
tradition ;  mystic  lore. 

Callah  {H. ),  hnde ;  Jiancee. 

Chazan  (//.),  cantor. 

Chevra  (//.),  small  congregation;  a 
society. 

Chine  (//.),  playful  humor;  humor- 
ous anecdote. 

Chocham  (//.),  wise  man. 

Chomutz  (//.),  leaven. 

Chosan  (//.),  bridegroom;  fiance. 

55 


Chuppah  (//.),  wedding  canopy. 
Cohen  (//.),  priest. 

Dayan  (//.),  rabbi  who  renders  de- 
cisions. 
Din  (//.),  law,  decision. 
Droshes  (//.),  sermons. 

Epikouros  {H.  from  Gk.),  heretic, 
scoffer;  Epicurean. 

Froom  (c.  G.),  pious. 

Gelt  (c.  G.),  money. 

Gematriyah  i^Hebraicized  Gk.),  mys- 
tic, numerical  interpretation  of 
Scripture. 

Gomorah  (//.) ,  part  of  the  Talmud. 

Gonof  (//.),  thief. 

Goyah  (//.),  non-Jewess. 

Halacha  (//.),  legal  portion  of  the 
Talmud. 

Havdolah  {H^,  ceremony  separating 
conclusion  of  Sabbath  or  Festival 
from  the  subsequent  days  of  toil. 

Imbeshreer  {c.  G.  ohne  beschreien) , 
without  bewitching;  unbeshrewn. 

Kaddish  (H.),  prayer  in  praise  of 
God ;  specially  recited  by  male 
mourners. 

Kehillah  (//.),  congregation. 


552 


GLOSSARY. 


Kind,  Kinder  (G.)i  child,  children. 
Kosher  (//.),  ritually  clean. 
Kotzon  (//.),  rich  man. 

Link  (G.),  lit.,  left,  i.e.  not  right; 
hence,  lax,  not  pious. 

Longe  verachum  ((?.  and  c.  //.),  lit.. 
The  long  "  and  He  being  merci- 
ful." A  long,  extra  prayer,  said  on 
Mondays  and  Thursdays. 

Lulov  (//.),  palm  branch  dressed 
with  myrtle  and  willow,  and  used 
at  the  Feast  of  Tabernacles. 

Maaseh  (i¥.),  story,  tale. 

Machzor  (//.),  Festival  prayer-book. 

Maggid  (//.),  preacher. 

Mazzoltov  (//.),  good  luck,  con- 
gratulations. 

Megilhih  (//.),  lit.,  scroll.  The  Book 
of  Esther. 

Meshuggah,  Meshuggene  {^H.^,  mad. 

Meshumad  (//.),  apostate. 

Metsiah  (//.),  lit.,  finding;  cp.  Fr., 
trouvaille  ;  bargain. 

Mezuzah  (//.),  case  containing  a 
scroll,  with  Hebrew  verses  (Deut- 
eronomy vi.  4-9,  13-21)  affixed  to 
every  door-post. 

Midrash  (//.),  Biblical  exposition. 

Mincha  (//.),  r.fternoon  prayer. 

Minyan  (//.),  quorum  often  males, 
over  thirteen,  necessary  for  public 
worship. 

Mishpochah  (//.),  family. 

Mishna,  Mishnayis  (//.),  collection 
of  the  Oral  Law. 

Misheberach  (//.),  synagogal  bene- 
diction. 

Mitzvah  (//.),  a  commandment,  i.e. 
a  good  deed. 

Mizrach  (//.),  East;  a  sacred  picture 
hung  on  the  east  wall  in  the  direc- 
tion of  Jerusalem,  to  which  the 
face  is  turned  in  praying. 

Narrischkeit  {c.  G.),  foolishness. 


Nasch  {c.  G.),  pilfer  (dainties). 

Nevirah  (//.),  sin. 

Niddah  (//.),  Taimudical  tractate  on 

the  purification  of  women. 
Nu  (/e.),  well. 

Olov  hasholom  {//.),  Peace  be  upon 
him !  (loosely  applied  to  deceased 
females  also). 

Omer  (//.),  the  seven  weeks  between 
Passover  and  Pentecost. 

Parnass  (//.),  president  of  the  con- 
gregation. 

Pesachdik  (//.),  proper  for  Passover. 

Pidyun  haben  (//.),  redemption  of 
the  first-born  son. 

Piyut  {^Hebraicized  Gk.),  liturgical 
poem. 

Pollack  {c.  G.),  Polish  Jew. 

Potch  (c.  G.),  slap. 

Rashi  (//.),  Rabbi  Solomon  ben 
Isaac,  whose  commentary  is  often 
printed  under  the  Hebrew  text  of 
the  Bible. 

Schlemihl  (//.),  unlucky,  awkward 
person. 

Schmuck  {c.  G.),  lubberly  person. 

Schmull  {c.  G.  sckmollefi),  pout,  sulk. 

Schnecks  (?  G.  Schnake,  gay  non- 
sense), affectations. 

Schnorrer  {c.  G.),  beggar. 

Seder  (//.),  Passover-eve  ceremony. 

Selaim  (//.),  old  Jewish  coins. 

Sephardim  (//.),  Spanish  and  Portu- 
guese Jews. 

Shaaloth  u  tshuvoth  (//.),  questions 
and  answers  ;  casuistical  treatise. 

Shabbos  (//.),  Sabbath. 

Shadchan  (//.),  professional  match- 
maker. 

Shaitcl  (c.  G.),  wig  worn  by  married 
women. 

Shammos  {c.  //.),  beadle. 


GLOSSARY. 


653 


Shass  ^H.  abbreviation),  the  six 
sections  of  the  Talmud. 

Shechitah  (//.) ,  slaughter. 

Shemah  beni  (//.),  Hear,  my  son! 
=  Dear  me  1 

Shemang  (//.),  confession  of  the 
Unity  of  God. 

Shidduch  (//.),  match. 

Shiksah  (//.),  non-Jewish  girl. 

Shnodar  (//.),  offer  money  to  the 
synagogue.  (An  extraordinary  in- 
stance of  Jewish  jargon,  —  a  com- 
pound Hebrew  word  meaning 
"who  vows," — being  turned  into 
an  English  verb,  and  conjugated 
accordingly,  in  ed  and  ing.) 

Shochet  (//).  official  slaughterer. 

Shofar  (//.),  trumpet  of  ram's  horn, 
blown  during  the  penitential  sea- 
son. 

Shool  {c.  G.) ,  synagogue. 

Shulchan  aruch  (//.),  a  sixteenth- 
century  compilation,  codifying 
Jewish  law. 

Simchath  Torah  {H.),  festival  of  the 
rejoicing  of  the  Law. 

Snoga  {S.) ,  Sephardic  synagogue. 


Spiel  {G.),  play. 

Takif  {H.),  rich  man,  swell. 

Taiith  (//.),  3-  shawl  with  fringes,  worn 

by  men  during  prayer. 
Tanaim  (//.),  betrothal  contract  or 

ceremony. 
Terah,  Torah  (.//.),  Law  of  Moses. 
Tephillin  (//.),  phylacteries. 
Tripha  (//.),  ritually  unclean. 

Wurst  {G.),  sausage. 

Yiddish,  Yiddishkeit  {c.  G.),  Jewish, 
Judaism. 

Yigdal  (//.),  hymn  summarizing  the 
thirteen  creeds  drawn  up  by 
Maimonides. 

Yom  Kippur  (//.),  Day  of  Atone- 
ment. 

Yom  tof  (//.) ,  lit.,  good  day ;  Festival. 

Yontovdik  (^hybrid  H.),  pertaining  to 
the  Festival. 

Yosher-Kowach  {c.  //.),  May  your 
strength  increase  !  =  Thank  you  ; 
a  formula  to  express  gratitude  — 
especially  at  the  end  of  a  reading. 


THE   END. 


BY   THE  SAME  AUTHOR. 


THE  KING  OF  SCHNORRERS. 

GROTESQUES    AND    FANTASIES. 

BY 

I.  ZANGWILL. 
Illustrated.      12mo.      Cloth.      $1.50. 


"  He  has  incarcerated  the  floating  tradition  of  the  Jewish 
Schnorrer,  who  is  as  unique  among  beggars  as  Israel  among 
nations."  —  Hartford  Times. 

"  Mr.  Zangwill  has  disclosed  to  us  an  inviting  field  never 
before  exploited  in  fiction,  and  the  sketches  he  has  printed 
are  in  a  kindly  and  humorous  vein  true  to  life  and  highly 
entertaining."  —  Table  Talk. 

"  The  audacity  of  this  '  King  of  Schnorrers '  is  some- 
thing unequalled,  and  it  is  enhanced  by  the  pithy  and 
original  style  in  which  the  author  writes." — Boston  Budget. 


MACMILLAN   &   CO., 

66    FIFTH    AVENUE,    NEViT    YORK. 


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